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Josephine. Frontispiece 



Josephine Hears of the Divorce. 



^l$J^-' 



53126 



SEP 23 1900 

Cof yWght entry 

Sicm\) COPY. 

DfUvered to 

OROEK DIVISION, 
OCT 16 I9UU 



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CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER I. 

PAGE 

Life in Martinique 7 

CHAPTER 11. 
Marriage of Josephine . .... 22 

CHAPTER III. 
Arrest of M. Beauharnais and Josephine , , 38 

CHAPTER IV. 
Scenes in Prison . ..... 54 

CHAPTER Y. 
The Release from Prison . . . , 6Q 

CHAPTER VI. 
Josephine in Italy . .... 87 

CHAPTER VII. 
Josephine at Malmaison . , . . .108 

CHAPTER VIII. 
Josephine the wife of the First Consul . .125 

CHAPTER IX. 
Developments of Character .... 143 

CHAPTER X. 
The Coronation . . . . . ,168 

CHAPTER XL 
Josephine an Empress . . . . • 197 

CHAPTER XII. 
The Divorce and Last Days .... 243 

(V) 




Napoleon and Josephine at Malmaison. {See p. 186. ) 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 



Josephine Hears of the Divorce . 


Frontispiece. 


Napoleon and Josephine at Malmaison 


page vi 


The Palace of St. Cloud 


" viii 


Josephine, Empress of France 


" X 


Headpiece, Chapter I. . 


." 7 


View in the Island of Martinique, 


facing " 8 


Josephine and the Fortune-teller . 


. " " 16 


Tailpiece 


." 21 


Headpiece, Chapter II. 


. " 22 


An Incident in the Voyage . 


facing" 26 


Maria Antoinette 


. " " 34 


Natives of Martinique 


." 37 


Headpiece, Chapter III. 


. " 38 


Alexander de Beauharnais . 


facing" 52 


Headpiece, Chapter IV. 


. " 54 


Robespierre Guillotined 


. " 65 


Headpiece, Chapter V. 


. " 66 


Eugene de Beauharnais 


facing " 74 


Napoleon Firing upon the Insurgents 


. " " 80 


Josephine's Salon 


. " 86 


Headpiece, Chapter VI. 


. " 87 


The Passage of the Bridge of Lodi, 


facing " 102 


Tailpiece 


. " 107 


Headpiece, Chapter VII. 


. " 108 


The Battle in Aboukir Bay , , 


facing" 122 



(vii) 



Vlll ILLUSTRATIONS. 




Headpiece, Chapter VIII. . 


page 125 


The Council of the Five Hundred 


facing "134 


Tailpiece 


. " 142 


Headpiece, Chapter IX. 


. " 143 


The Explosion of the Infernal Machine, 


facing " 152 


Louis Bonaparte .... 


. " " 162 


Napoleon and the Children of Josephine . " 165 


Headpiece, Chapter X. 


. " 168 


The Te Deum in Notre Dame 


facing " 174 


The Coronation of Josephine 


. " " 192 


Headpiece, Chapter XI. 


. " 197 


Napoleon Bonaparte 


facing " 212 


Napoleon at Austerhtz 


. " " 238 


Tailpiece 


. " 242 


Headpiece, Chapter XII. 


. " 243 



Marriage of Napoleon and Maria Louisa, facing " 264 




Josephine, viii 



The Palace of St. Cloud. [Seep. 172.) 



INTRODUCTORY. 



Josephine, the beautiful Creole who afterward 
became Empress of France, like Maria Antoi- 
nette and Madam Roland, was drawn into the 
vortex of the French Revolution, but, more 
fortunate than they, escaped the guillotine, 
though standing in its sinister shadow. She 
saw the closing of the gruesome tragedy and 
the rise of the young Corsican, Bonaparte. 
She shared his meteoric career ; saw him be- 
come the creator of kings, with the proudest 
monarchs of Europe constrained to do his 
bidding. His own hands placed the diadem of 
an empress upon her brow. 

Then, with an energy which the world has 
never seen surpassed, he bent to the purpose of 
his soul — to make France the most illustrious 
nation earth had ever seen. For this he 
trampled upon the strongest ties of affection, 
and Josephine, broken-hearted, affixed her 
signature to the deed which sundered her 
dearest hopes and fondest aspirations. She 
has been called the " Star of Napoleon " for 
the lustre she added to his brilliancy. France 
reveres her as a beneficent angel of goodness. 

(ix) 




Josephine, x 



Josephine, Empress of France. 










JOSEPHINE. 



CHAPTER I. 



LIFE IN MARTINIQUE. 

The island of Martinique emerges in tropi- 
cal luxuriance from the bosom of the Caribbean 
Sea. A meridian sun causes the whole land to 
smile in perennial verdure, and all the gorgeous 
flowers and luscious fruits of the torrid zone 
adorn upland and prairie in boundless pro- 
fusion. Mountains, densely wooded, rear their 
summits sublimely to the skies, and valleys 
charm the eye with pictures more beautiful 
than imagination can create. Ocean breezes 
ever sweep these hills and vales, and temper the 
heat of a vertical sun. Slaves, whose dusky 
limbs are scarcely veiled by the lightest cloth- 
ing, till the soil, while the white inhabitants, 
supported by the indolent labor of these unpaid 
menials, loiter away life in listless leisure and 
in rustic luxury. Far removed from the dissi- 
pating influences of European and American 



8 JOSEPHINE. 

opulence, they dwell in their secluded island in 
a state of almost patriarchal simplicity. 

About the year 1760, a young French officer. 
Captain Joseph Gaspard Tascher, accompanied 
his regiment of horse to this island. While 
here on professional duty, he became attached 
to a young lady from France, whose parents, 
formerly opulent, in consequence of the loss of 
property, had moved to the West Indies to re- 
trieve their fortunes. But little is known re- 
specting Mademoiselle de Sanois, this young 
lady, who was soon married to M. Tascher. 
Josephine was the only child born of this union. 
In consequence of the early death of her mother, 
she was, while an infant, intrusted to the care 
of her aunt. Her father soon after died, and 
the little orphan appears never to have known 
a father's or a mother^s love. 

Madame Eenaudin, the kind aunt, who now, 
with maternal affection, took charge of the help- 
less infant, was a lady of wealth, and of great 
benevolence of character. Her husband was the 
owner of several estates, and lived surrounded 
by all that plain and rustic profusion which 
characterizes the abode of the wealthy planter. 
His large possessions, and his energy of charac- 
ter, gave him a wide influence over the island. 
He was remarkable for his humane treatment 
of his slaves, and for the successful manner with 
which he conducted the affairs of his plantations. 



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Josephine, face p. 8 

View in the Island of Martinique. 



LIFE IN MARTINIQUE. 9 

The general condition of the slaves of Marti- 
nico at this time was very deplorable ; but on 
the plantations of M. Eenaudin there was, as 
perfect a state of contentment and of happiness 
as is consistent with the deplorable institution 
of slavery. The slaves, many of them but re- 
cently torn from their homes in Africa, were 
necessarily ignorant, degraded, and supersti- 
tious. They knew nothing of those more ele- 
vated and refined enjoyments which the culti- 
vated mind so highly appreciates, but which are 
so often also connected with the most exquisite 
suffering. Josephine, in subsequent life, gave 
a very vivid description of the wretchedness of 
the slaves in general, and also of the peace and 
harmony which, in striking contrast, cheered 
the estates of her uncle. "When the days' tasks 
were done, the negroes, constitutionally light- 
hearted and merry, gathered aronnd their cab- 
ins with songs and dances, often prolonged late 
into the hours of the night. They had never 
known anything better than their present lot. 
They compared their condition with that of the 
slaves on the adjoining plantations, and exulted 
in view of their own enjoyments. M. and Ma- 
dame Eenaudin often visited their cabins, spoke 
words of kindness to them in their hours of 
sickness and sorrow, encouraged the formation 
of pure attachments and honorable marriage 
among the young, and took a lively interest in 



10 JOSEPHINE. 

their sports. The slaves loved their kind mas- 
ter and mistress most sincerely, and manifested 
their affection in a thousand simple ways which 
touched the heart. 

Josephine imbibed from infancy the spirit of 
her uncle and aunt. She always spoke to the 
slaves in tones of kindness, and became a uni- 
versal favorite with all upon the plantations. 
She had no playmates but the little negroes, 
and she united with them freely in all their 
sports. Still, these little ebon children of bond- 
age evidently looked up to Josephine as to a 
superior being. She was the queen around 
whom they circled in affectionate homage. The 
instinctive faculty, which Josephine displayed 
through life, of winning the most ardent love 
of all who met her, while, at the same time, 
she was protected from any undue familiarity, 
she seems to have possessed even at that early 
day. The children, who were her companions 
in all the sports of childhood, were also duti- 
ful subjects ever ready to be obedient to her 
will. 

The social position of M. Eenaudin, as one 
of the most opulent and influential gentlemen 
of Martinique, necessarily attracted to his hos- 
pitable residence much refined and cultivated 
society. Strangers from Europe visiting the 
island, planters of intellectual tastes, and ladies 
of polished manners, met a cordial welcome be- 



LIFE IK MARTINIQUE. 11 

neath the spacious roof of this abode, where all 
abundance was to be found. Madame Renau- 
din had passed her early years in Paris, and her 
manners were embellished with that elegance 
and refinement which have given to Parisian 
society such a world-wide celebrity. There 
was, at that period, much more intercourse be- 
tween the mother country and the colonies than 
at the present day. Thus Josephine, though 
reared in a provincial home, was accustomed, 
from infancy, to associate with gentlemen and 
ladies who were familiar with the etiquette of 
the highest rank in society, and whose conver- 
sation was intellectual and improving. 

It at first view seems difficult to account for 
the high degree of mental culture which Jo- 
sephine displayed, when, seated by the side of 
Napoleon, she was the Empress of Erance. Her 
remarks, her letters, her conversational ele- 
gance, gave indication of a mind thoroughly 
furnished with information and trained by se- 
vere discipline. And yet, from all the glimpses 
we can catch of her early education, it would 
seem that, with the exception of the accomplish- 
ments of music, dancing, and drawing, she was 
left very much to the guidance of her own 
instinctive tastes. But, like Madame Roland, 
she was blessed with that peculiar mental con- 
stitution, which led her, of her own accord, to 
treasure up all knowledge which books or con- 



12 JOSEPHINE. 

versation brought within her reach. From 
childhood until the hour of her death, she was 
ever improving her mind by careful observation 
and studious reading. She played upon the 
harp with great skill, and sang with a voice of 
exquisite melody. She also read with a correct- 
ness of elocution and a fervor of feeling which 
ever attracted admiration. The morning of her 
childhood was indeed bright and sunny, and 
her gladdened heart became so habituated to 
joyousness, that her cheerful spirit seldom failed 
her even in the darkest days of her calamity. 
Her passionate love for flowers had interested 
her deeply in the study of botany, and she also 
became very skilful in embroidery, that accom- 
plishment which was once deemed an essential 
part of the education of every lady. 

Under such influences Josephine became a 
child of such grace, beauty, and loveliness of 
character as to attract the attention and the 
admiration of all who saw her. There was an 
affectionateness, simplicity, and frankness in 
her manners which won all hearts. Her most 
intimate companion in these early years was a 
young mulatto girl, the daughter of a slave, and 
report said, with how much truth it is impos- 
sible to know, that she was also the daughter 
of Captain Tascher before his marriage. Her 
name was Euphemie. She was a year or two 
older than Josephine, but she attached herself 



LIFE IN MARTINIQUE. 13 

with deathless affection to her patroness ; and, 
though Josephine made her a companion and a 
confidante, she gradually passed, even in these 
early years, into the position of a maid of honor, 
and clung devotedly to her mistress through all 
the changes of subsequent life. Josephine, at 
this time secluded from all companionship with 
young ladies of her own rank and age, made 
this humble but active-minded and intelligent 
girl her bosom companion. They rambled to- 
gether, the youthful mistress and her maid, in 
perfect harmony. From Josephine^s more high- 
ly-cultivated mind the lowly-born child derived 
intellectual stimulus, and thus each day became 
a more worthy and congenial associate. As 
years passed on, and Josephine ascended into 
higher regions of splendor, her humble attend- 
ant gradually retired into more obscure posi- 
tions, though she was ever regarded by her true- 
hearted mistress with great kindness. 

Josephine was a universal favorite with all 
the little negro girls of the plantation. They 
looked up to her as to a protectress whom they 
loved, and to whom they owed entire homage. 
She would frequently collect a group of them 
under the shade of the luxuriant trees of that 
tropical island, and teach them the dances which 
she had learned, and also join with them as a 
partner. She loved to assemble them around 
her, and listen to those simple negro melodies 



14 JOSEPHINE. 

which penetrate every heart which can feel the 
power of music. Again, all their voices, in 
sweet harmony, blended with hers as she taught 
them the more scientific songs of Europe. She 
would listen with unaffected interest to their 
tales of sorrow, and weep with them.^ Often 
she interposed in their behalf that their tasks 
might be lightened, or that a play-day might 
be allowed them. Thus she was as much be- 
loved and admired in the cabin of the poor 
negro as she was in her uncle^s parlor, where 
intelligence and refinement were assembled. 
This same character she displayed through the 
whole of her career. Josephine upon the plan- 
tation and Josephine upon the throne — Jo- 
sephine surrounded by the sable maidens of 
Martinique, and Josephine moving in queenly 
splendor in the palaces of Versailles, with all 
the courtiers of Europe revolving around her, 
displayed the same traits of character, and by 
her unaffected kindness won the hearts alike of 
the lowly and of the exalted. 

About this time an occurrence took place 
which has attracted far more attention than it 
deserves. Josephine was one day walking 
under the shade of the trees of the plantation, 
when she saw a number of negro children gath- 
ered around an aged and withered negress, who 
had great reputation among the slaves as a 
fortune-teller. Curiosity induced Josephine 



LIFE IN MARTINIQUE. 15 

to draw near the group to hear what the sorcer- 
ess had to say. The old sibyl, with the cun- 
ning which is characteristic of her craft, as soon 
as she saw Josephine approach, whom she knew 
perfectly, assumed an air of great agitation, 
and, seizing her hand violently, gazed with 
most earnest attention upon the lines traced 
upon the palm. The little negresses were per- 
fectly awe-stricken by this oracular display. 
Josephine, however, was only amused, and smil- 
ing, said, 

" So you discover something very extraordi- 
nary in my destiny ? " 

^^ Yes ! " replied the negress, with an air of 
great solemnity. 

" Is happiness or misfortune to be my lot ?" 
Josephine inquired. 

The negress again gazed upon her hand, and 
then replied, '* Misfortune ; " but, after a mo- 
ment's pause, she added, "and happiness 
too.'' 

" You must be careful, my good woman," 
Josephine rejoined, " not to commit yourself. 
Your predictions are not very intelligible." 

The negress, raising her eyes with an expres- 
sion of deep mystery to heaven rejoined, " I 
am not permitted to render my revelations 
more clear." 

In every human heart there is a vein of cre- 
dulity. The pretended prophetess had now 

2— Josephine 



16 JOSEPHINE. 

succeeded in fairly arousing the curiosity of 
Josephine, who eagerly inquired, '^ What do 
you read respecting me in futurity ? Tell me 
exactly/' 

Again the negress, assuming an air of pro- 
found solemnity, said, " You will not believe 
me if I reveal to you your strange destiny/' 

" Yes, indeed, I assure you that I will," Jo- 
sephine thoughtlessly replied. '^ Come, good 
mother, do tell me what I have to hope and 
what to fear." 

" On your own head be it, then. Listen. 
You will soon be married. That union will 
not be happy. You will become a widow, and 
then you will be Queen of France. Some 
happy years will be yours, but afterward you 
will die in a hospital, amid civil commotions." 

The old woman then hurried away. Jo- 
sephine talked a few moments with the young 
negroes upon the folly of this pretended for- 
tune-telling, and leaving them, the affair passed 
from her mind. In subsequent years, when 
toiling through the vicissitudes of her most 
eventful life, she recalled the singular coinci- 
dence between her destiny and the prediction, 
and seemed to consider that the negress, with 
prophetic vision, had traced out her wonderful 
career. 

But what is there so extraordinary in this 
narrative ? What maiden ever consulted a 




Josephine, face p. lij 

Josephine and the Fortune-teller. 



LIFE IN MARTINIQUE. 17 

fortune-teller without receiving the agreeable 
announcement that she was to wed beauty, and 
wealth, and rank ? It was known universally,, 
and it was a constant subject of plantation gos- 
sip, that the guardians of Josephine were con- 
templating a match for her with the son of a 
neighboring planter. The negroes did not think 
him half worthy of their adored and queenly 
Josephine. They supposed, however, that the 
match was settled. The artful woman was 
therefore compelled to allow Josephine to marry 
at first the undistinguished son of the planter 
with whom she could not be happy. She,how- 
ever, very considerately lets the unworthy hus- 
band in a short time die, and then Josephine 
becomes a queen. This is the old story, which 
has been repeated to half the maidens in Chris- 
tendom. It is not very surprising that in this 
one case it should have happened to prove 
true. 

But, unfortunately, our prophetess went a 
little farther, and predicted that Josephine 
would die in a hospital — implying poverty and 
abandonment. This part of the prediction 
proved to be utterly untrue. Josephine, in- 
stead of dying in a hospital, died in the beauti- 
ful palace of Malmaison. Instead of dying in 
poverty, she was one of the richest ladies in 
Europe, receiving an income of some six hundred 
thousand dollars a year. The grounds around 



18 JOSEPHINE. 

her palace were embellished with all the attrac- 
tions, and her apartments furnished with every 
luxury which opulence could provide. Instead 
of dying in f riendlessness and neglect, the Em- 
peror Alexander of Russia stood at her bedside ; 
the most illustrious kings and nobles of Europe 
crowded her court and did her homage. And 
though she was separated from her husband, she 
still retained the title of Empress, and was the 
object of his most sincere affection and esteem. 

Thus this prediction, upon which so much 
stress has been laid, seems to vanish in the air. 
It surely is not a supernatural event that a 
young lady, who was told by an aged Degress 
that she would be a queen, happened actually 
to become one. 

We have alluded to a contemplated match 
between Josephine and the son of a neighbor- 
ing planter. An English family, who had lost 
property and rank in the convulsions of those 
times, had sought a retreat in the island of Mar- 
tinique, and were cultivating an adjoining plan- 
tation. In this family there was a very pleas- 
ant lad, a son, of nearly the same age with Jo- 
sephine. The plantations being near to each 
other, they were often companions and play- 
mates. A strong attachment grew up between 
them. The parents of William, and the uncle 
and aunt of Josephine, approved cordially of 
this attachment, and were desirous that these 



LIFE IN MARTINIQUE. 19 

youthful hearts should be united, as soon as 
the parties should arrive at mature age. Jo- 
sephine, in the ingenuous artlessness of her 
nature, disguised not in the least her strong 
affection for William. And his attachment to 
her was deep and enduring. The solitude of 
their lives peculiarly tended to promote fervor 
of character. 

Matters were in this state, when the father of 
William received an intimation from England 
that, by returning to his own country, he might, 
perhaps, regain his lost estates. He immedi- 
ately prepared to leave the island with his fam- 
ily. The separation was a severe blow to these 
youthful lovers. They wept, and vowed eternal 
fidelity. 

It is not surprising that Josephine should 
have been in some degree superstitious. The 
peculiarity of her life upon the plantation — her 
constant converse with the negroes, whose 
minds were imbued with all the superstitious 
notions which they had brought from Africa, 
united with those which they had found upon 
the island, tended to foster those feelings. 
Rousseau, the most popular and universally- 
read French writer of that day, in his celebrated 
^' Confessions,^' records with perfect composure 
that he was one day sitting in a grove, meditat- 
ing whether his soul would probably be saved 
or lost. He felt that the question was of the 



20 JOSEPHIKE. 

utmost importance. How could he escape from 
the uncertainty ! A supernatural voice seemed 
to suggest an appeal to a singular kind of au- 
gury. '* I will/' said he, ^' throw this stone at 
that tree. If I hit tlie tree, it shall be a sign 
that my soul is to be saved. If I miss it, it 
shall indicate that I am to be lost. '^ He select- 
ed a large tree, took the precaution of getting 
very near to it, and threw his stone plump 
against the trunk. "After that," says the 
philosopher, " I never again had a doubt re- 
specting my salvation." 

Josephine resorted to the same kind of au- 
gury to ascertain if William, who had become 
a student in the University at Oxford, still re- 
mained faithful to her. She not unfrequently 
attempted to beguile a weary hour in throwing 
pebbles at the trees, that she might divine 
whether William were then thinking of her. 
Months, however, passed away, and she re- 
ceived no tidings from him. Though she had 
often written, her letters remained unanswered 
Her feelings were the more deeply wounded, 
since there were other friends upon the island 
with whom he kept up a correspondence ; but 
Josephine never received even a message 
through them. 

One day, as she was pensively rambling in a 
grove, where she had often walked with her ab- 
sent lover, she found carved upon a tree the 



lilFE IN MARTINIQUE. 



21 



names of William and Josephine. She knew 
well by whose hand they had been cut, and, en- 
tirely overcome with emotion, she sat down and 
wept bitterly. With the point of a knife, and 
with a trembling hand, she inscribed in the bark 
these words, peculiarly characteristic of her 
depth of feeling, and of the gentleness of her 
spirit : ''Unhappy William ! thou hast forgot- 
ten me !" 

William, however, had not forgotten her. 
Again and again he had written in terms of 
the most ardent affection. But the friends of 
Josephine, meeting with an opportunity for a 
match for her which they deemed far more ad- 
vantageous, had destroyed these communica- 
tions, and also had prevented any of her letters 
from reaching the hand of William. Thus each, 
while cherishing the truest affection, deemed the 
other faithless. 



1 


^M^^^^a 


^^p^ 


^^^M 




CHAPTER II. 



THE MAEKIAGE OF JOSEPHINE. 



Josephine was about fourteen years of age 
when she was separated from William. A year 
passed away, during which she received not a 
line from her absent friend. About this time 
a gentleman from France visited her uncle 
upon business of great importance. Viscount 
Alexander de Beauharnais was a fashionable 
and gallant young man, about thirty years of 
age, possessing much conversational ease and 
grace of manner, and accustomed to the most 
polished society of the French metropolis. He 
held a commission in the army, and had already 
signalized himself by several acts of bravery. 
His sympathies had been strongly aroused by 
the struggle of the American colonists with the 
mother country, and he had already aided the 
colonists both with his sword and his purse. 

Several large and valuable estates in Mar- 
tinique, adjoining the plantation of M. Renau- 
din, had fallen by inheritance to this young offi- 
cer and his brother, the Marquis of Beauhar- 
nais. He visited Martinique to secure the proof 
22 



THE MARRIAGE OF JOSEPHINE. 23 

of his title to these estates. M. Renaudin held 
some of these plantations on lease. In the 
transaction of this business, Beauharnais spent 
much time at the mansion of M. Renaudin. 
He, of course, saw much of the beautiful Jo- 
sephine, and was fascinated with her grace, and 
her mental and physical loveliness. 

The uncle and aunt of Josephine were de- 
lighted to perceive the interest which their niece 
had awakened in the bosom of the interesting 
stranger. His graceful figure, his accomplished 
person, his military celebrity, his social rank, 
and his large fortune, all conspired to dazzle 
their eyes, and to lead them to do everything 
in their power to promote a match apparently 
so eligible. The ambition of M. Renaudin was 
moved at the thought of conferring upon his 
niece, the prospective heiress of his own fortune, 
an estate so magnificent as the united inherit- 
ance. Josephine, however, had not yet for- 
gotten William, and, though interested in her 
uncle's guest, for some time allowed no emotion 
of .love to flow out toward him. 

One morning Josephine was sitting in the 
library in pensive musings, when her uncle 
came into the room to open to her the subject 
of her contemplated marriage with M. Beau- 
harnais. Josephine was thunderstruck at the 
communication, for, according to the invariable 
custom of the times, she knew that she could 



24 JOSEPHINE. 

have but little voice in the choice of a partner 
for life. For a short time she listened in 
silence to his proposals, and then said, with 
tears in her eyes, 

'^ Dear nncle, I implore you to remember 
that my affections are fixed upon William. I 
have been solemnly promised to him.^' 

" That is utterly impossible, my child," her 
uncle replied. '^ Circumstances are changed. 
All our hopes are centered in you. You must 
obey our wishes." 

*^And why," said she, '^have you changed 
your intentions in reference to William ? " 

Her uncle replied : '^ Yon will receive by in- 
heritance all my estate. M. Beauharnais pos- 
sesses the rich estates adjoining. Your union 
unites the property. M. Beauharnais is every- 
thing which can be desired in a husband. Be- 
sides, William appears to have forgotten you." 

To this last remark Josephine couid make no 
reply. She looked sadly upon the floor and 
was silent. It is said that her uncle had then 
in his possession several letters which William 
had written her, replete with the most earnest 
spirit of constancy and affection. 

Josephine, but fifteen years of age, could not, 
under these circumstances, resist the influences 
now brought to bear upon her. M. Beauhar- 
nais was a gentleman of fascinating accomplish- 
ments. The reluctance of Josephine to become 



THE MARRIAGE OF JOSEPHINE. 25 

his bride but stimulated his zeal to obtain her. 
In the seclusion of the plantation, and far re- 
moved from other society, she was necessarily 
with him nearly at all hours. They read to- 
gether, rode on horseback side by side, rambled 
in the groves in pleasant companionship. They 
floated by moonlight upon the water, breathing 
the balmy air of that delicious clime, and unit- 
ing their voices in song, the measure being 
timed with the dipping of the oars by the ne- 
groes. The friends of Josephine were importu- 
nate for the match. At last, reluctantly she 
gave her consent. Having done this, she al- 
lowed her affections, unrestrained, to repose 
upon her betrothed. Though her heart still 
clung to William, she thought that he had found 
other friends in England, in whose pleasant com- 
panionship he had lost all remembrance of the 
island maiden who had won his early love. 

Alexander Beauharnais, soon after his en- 
gagement to Josephine, embarked for France. 
Arrangements had been made for Josephine, in 
the course of a few months, to follow him, upon 
a visit to a relative in Paris, and there the nup- 
tials were to be consummated. Josephine was 
now fifteen years of age. She was attached 
to Beauharnais, but not with that fervor of 
feeling which had previously agitated her heart. 
She often thought of William and spoke of him, 
and at times had misgivings lest there might 



26 JOSEPHINE. 

be some explanatiou of his silence. But months 
had passed on, and she had received no letter 
or message from him. 

At length the hour for her departure from 
the island arrived. With tearful eyes and a sad- 
dened heart she left the land of her birth, and 
the scenes endeared to her by all the recollec- 
tions of childhood. Groups of negroes, from 
the tottering infant to the aged man of gray 
hairs, surrounded her with weeping and loud 
lamentation. Josephine hastened on board, the 
ship got under way, and soon the island of 
Martinique disappeared beneath the watery ho- 
rizon. Josephine sat upon the deck in perfect 
silence, watching the dim outline of her beloved 
home till it was lost to sight. Her young heart 
was full of anxiety, of tenderness, and of regrets. 
Little, however, could she imagine the career 
of strange vicissitudes upon which she was 
about to enter. 

The voyage was long and tempestuous. 
Storms pursued them all the way. At one 
time the ship was dismasted and came near 
foundering. At length the welcome cry of 
" Land " was heard, and Josephine, an unknown 
orphan child of fifteen, placed her feet upon the 
shores of France, that country over which she 
was soon to reign the most renowned empress. 
She hastened to Fontainebleau, and was there 
met by Alexander Beauharnais. He received 






'Mi 111, 1 1 ; I 




Tllfi MARRIAGE OF JOSEPHINE. 27 

her with great fondness, and was assiduous in 
bestowing upon her the most flattering atten- 
tions. But Josephine had hardly arrived at Fon- 
tainebleau before she heard that William and 
his father were also residing at that place. Her 
whole frame trembled like an aspen leaf, and 
her heart sunk within her as she received the 
intelligence. All her long-cherished affection 
for the companion of her childhood was revived, 
and still she knew not but that William was 
faithless. He, however, immediately called, 
with his father, to see her. The interview was 
most embarrassing, for each loved the other in- 
tensely, and each had reason to believe that the 
other had proved untrue. The next day Wil- 
liam called alone ; Josephine, the betrothed bride 
of Beauharnais, prudently declined seeing him. 
He then wrote her a letter, which he bribed a 
servant to place in her hands, full of protesta- 
tions of love, stating how he had written to her, 
and passionately inquiring why she turned so 
coldly from him. 

Josephine read the letter with a bursting 
heart. She now saw how she had been de- 
ceived. She now was convinced that Wil- 
liam had proved faithful to her, notwith- 
standing he had so much reason to believe 
that she had been untrue to him. But what 
could she do ? She was but fifteen years 
of age. She was surrounded only by those 

3 — Josephine 



28 JOSEPHINE. 

who were determined that she should marry 
Alexander Beauharnais. She was told that 
the friends of William had decided unalter- 
ably that he should marry an English heiress, 
and that the fortunes of his father's family 
were dependent upon that alliance. The 
servant who had been the bearer of William's 
epistle was dismissed, and the other servants 
were commanded not to allow him to enter 
the house. 

The agitation of Josephine's heart was 
such that for some time she was unable to leave 
her bed. She entreated her friends to allow 
her for a few months to retire to a convent, 
that she might, in solitary thought and 
prayer, regain composure. Her friends con- 
sented to this arrangement, and she took 
refuge in the convent at Panthemont. Here 
she spent a few months in inexpressible gloom. 
William made many unavailing efforts to 
obtain an interview, and at last, in despair, 
reluctantly received the wealthy bride, through 
whom he secured an immense inheritance, and 
with whom he passed an unloving life. 

The Viscount Beauharnais often called to 
see her, and was permitted to converse with 
her at the gate of her window. In the sim- 
plicity of her heart, she told her friends at 
the convent of her attachment for William ; 
how they had been reared together, and how 



THE MARRIAGE OF JOSEPHINE. 29 

they had loved from childhood. She felt 
that it was a cruel fate which separated 
them, but a fate before which each must 
inevitably bow. At last she calmly made up 
her mind to comply with the wishes of her 
friends, and to surrender herself to the Vis- 
count Beauharnais. There was much in the 
person and character of Beauharnais to ren- 
der him very attractive, and she soon be- 
came sincerely, though never passionately, 
attached to him. 

Josephine was sixteen years of age when 
she was married. Her social position was in 
the midst of the most expensive and fash- 
ionable society of Paris. She was immedi- 
ately involved in all the excitements of 
parties, and balls, and gorgeous entertain- 
ments. Her beauty, her grace, her amiabil- 
ity, and her peculiarly musical voice, which 
fell like a charm upon every ear, excited 
great admiration and not a little envy. It 
was a dangerous scene into which to intro- 
duce the artless and inexperienced Creole 
girl, and she was not a little dazzled by the 
splendor with which she was surrounded. 
Everything that could minister to conven- 
ience, or that could gratify taste, was lav- 
ished profusely around her. For a time she 
was bewildered by the novelty of her situa- 
tion. But soon she became weary of the 



CO JOSEPHINE. 

heartless pageantry of fashionable life, and 
sighed for the tranquil enjoyments of her 
island home. 

Her husband, proud of her beauty and 
accomplishments, introduced her at court. 
Maria Antoinette, who had then just as- 
cended the throne, and was in the brilliance 
of her youth, and beauty, and early popu- 
larity, was charmed with the West Indian 
bride, and received her without the for- 
mality of a public presentation. When these 
two young brides met in the regal palace of 
Versailles — the one a daughter of Maria 
Theresa and a descendant of the Caesars who 
had come from the court of Austria to be 
not only the queen, but the brightest orna- 
ment of the court of France — the other the 
child of a planter, born upon an obscure is- 
land, reared in the midst of negresses, as 
almost her only companions — little did they 
imagine that Maria Antoinette was to go 
down, down, down to the lowest state of igno- 
miny and wo, while Josephine was to ascend 
to more and more exalted stations, until she 
should sit upon a throne more glorious than 
the Caesars ever knew. 

French philosophy had at this time under- 
mined the religion of Jesus Christ. All that is 
sacred in the domestic relations was wither- 
ing beneath the blight of infidelity. Beau- 



THE MARKIAGE OF JOSEPHINE. 31 

harnais, a man of fashion and of the world, 
had imbibed, to the full, the sentiments which 
disgraced the age. Marriage was deemed a 
partnership, to be formed or dissolved at 
pleasure. Fidelity to the nuptial tie was the 
jest of philosophers and witlings. Josephine 
had soon the mortification of seeing a proud, 
beautiful, and artful woman taking her place 
and openly and triumphantly claiming the at- 
tentions and the affections of her husband. 
This woman, high in rank, loved to torture her 
poor victim. " Your dear Alexander,'' she 
said to Josephine, '^ daily lavishes upon others 
the tribute of attachment which you think he 
reserves solely for you.'' She could not bear 
to see the beautiful and virtuous Josephine 
happy, as the honored wife of her guilty lover, 
and she resolved, if possible, to sow the seeds 
of jealousy so effectually between them as to 
secure a separation. 

In the year 1780 Josephine gave birth to her 
daughter Hortense. This event seemed for a 
time to draw back the wandei'ing affections of 
Beauharnais. He was really proud of his wife. 
He admired her beauty and her grace. He 
doted upon his infant daughter. But he was 
an infidel. He recognized no law of God, com- 
manding purity of heart and life, and he 
contended that Josephine had no right to 
complain, as long as he treated her kindly, if 



32 JOSEPHINE. 

he did indulge in the waywardness of pas- 
sion. 

The path of Josephine was now, indeed, 
shrouded in gloom, and each day seemed to 
grow darker and darker. Hortense became her 
idol and her only comfort. Her husband lav- 
ished upon her those luxuries which his wealth 
enabled hi m to gra nt./ He was kind to her in 
words and in all the ordinary courtesies of in- 
tercourse. But Josephine's heart was well-nigh 
broken. A few years of conflict passed slowly 
away, when she gave birth, in the year 1783, 
to her son Eugene. In the society of her chil- 
dren the unhappy mother found now her only 
solace. 

While the Viscount Beauharnais was ready 
to defend his own conduct, he was by no means 
willing that his wife should govern herself by 
the same principles of fashionable philosophy. 
The code infidel is got up for the especial ben- 
efit of dissolute men ; their wives must be gov- 
erned by another code. The artful woman, 
who was the prime agent in these difficulties, 
affected great sympathy with Josephine in her 
sorrows, protested her own entire innocence, 
but assured her that M. Beauharnais was an in- 
grate, entirely unworthy of her affections. She 
deceived Josephine, hoarded up the confidence 
of her stricken heart, and conversed with her 
about William, the memory of whose faithful 



THE MARRIAGE OF JOSEPHINE. 33 

love now came with new freshness to the dis- 
consolate wife. 

Josephine, lured by her, wrote a letter to her 
friends in Martinique, in which she imprudently 
said, " Were it not for my children, I should, 
without a pang, renounce France forever. My 
duty requires me to forget AVilliam ; and yet, 
if we had been united together, I should not 
to-day have been troubling you with my griefs." 

The woman who instigated her to write this 
letter was infamous enough to obtain it by 
stealth and show it to Beaiiharnais. His jeal- 
ousy and indignation were immediately aroused 
to the highest pitch. He was led by this ma- 
licious deceiver to believe that Josephine had 
obtained secret interviews with William, and 
the notorously unfaithful husband was exas- 
perated to the highest degree at the very sus- 
picion of the want of fidelity in his wife. He 
reproached her in language of the utmost se- 
verity, took Eugene from her, and resolved to 
endeavor, by legal process, to obtain an entire 
divorce. She implored him, for the sake of her 
children, not to proclaim their difficulties to the 
world. He, however, reckless of consequences, 
made application to the courts for the annul- 
ment of the matrimonial bond. Josephine was 
now compelled to defend her OTfn character. 
She again retired with Hortense to the convent, 
and there^ through dreary months of solitude. 



34 JOSEPHINE. 

and silence, and dejection, awaited the result 
of the trial upon which her reputation as a vir- 
tuous woman was staked. The decree of the 
court was triumphantly in her favor, and Jo- 
sephine returned to her friends to receive their 
congratulations, but impressed with the convic- 
tion that earth had no longer a joy in the store 
for her. Her friends did all in their power to 
cheer her desponding spirit ; but the wound 
she had received was too deep to be speedily 
healed. One day her friends, to divert her mind 
from brooding over irreparable sorrows, took 
her, almost by violence, to Versailles. They 
passed over the enchanting grounds, and 
through the gorgeously-furnished apartments of 
the Great and Little Trianon, the favorite 
haunts of Maria Antoinette. Here the beauti- 
ful Queen of France was accustomed to lay aside 
the pageantry of royalty, and to enjoy, with- 
out restraint, the society of those who were 
dear to her. Days of darkness and trouble had 
already begun to darken around her path. As 
Josephine was looking at some of the works of 
art, she was greatly surprised at the entrance 
of the queen, surrounded by several ladies of 
her court. Maria Antoinette immediately rec- 
ognized Josephine, and with that air of af- 
fability and kindness which ever characterized 
her conduct, she approached her, and, with one 
of her winning smiles, said, '' Madame Beau- 




JosepJtine , face p. 3i 

Maria Antoinette, Queen of France. 



THE MARRIAGE OF JOSEPHINE. 35 

harnais, I am very happy to see you at the two 
Trianons. You well know how to appreciate 
their beauties. I should be much pleased to 
learn what objects you consider most interest- 
ing. I shall always receive you with pleasure. ^^ 

These words from the queen were an un- 
speakable solace to Josephine. Her afflicted 
heart needed the consolation. The queen was 
acquainted with her trials, and thus nobly as- 
sured her of her sympathy and her confidence. 
In a few days Maria Antoinette invited Jose- 
phine to a private interview. She addressed 
her in words of the utmost kindness, promised 
to watch over the interests of her son, and at 
the same time, as a mark of her especial regard, 
she took from her neck an antique ornament of 
precious stones, and passed it over the neck of 
Josephine. The king also himself came in at 
the interview, for his heart had been softened 
by sorrow, and addressed words of consolation 
to the injured and discarded wife. 

Josephine now received letters from Marti- 
nique earnestly entreating her to return, with 
her children, to the home of her childhood. 
World-weary, she immediately resolved to ac- 
cept the invitation. But the thought of cross- 
ing the wide ocean, and leaving her son Eugene 
behind, was a severe pang to a mother's heart. 
Eugene had been taken from her and sent to a 
boarding-school. Josephine felt so deeply the 



36 JOSEPHINE. 

pang of separation from her beloved child, that 
she obtained an interview with M. Beauharnais, 
and implored him to allow, her to take Eugene 
with her. He gave a cold and positive refusal. 
A few days after this, Josephine, cruelly- 
separated from her husband and bereaved of 
her son, embarked with Hortense for Marti- 
nique. She strove to maintain that aspect of 
cheerfulness and of dignity which an injured 
but innocent woman is entitled to exhibit. 
When dark hours of despondency overshadowed 
her, she tried to console herself with the 
beautiful thought of Plautus : '^ If we support 
adversity with courage, we shall have a keener 
relish for returning prosperity. '^ It does not 
appear that she had any refuge in the consola- 
tions of religion. She had a vague and general 
idea of the goodness of a superintending Provi- 
dence, but she was apparently a stranger to 
those warm and glowing revelations of Chris- 
tianity which introduce us to a sympathizing 
Saviour, a guiding and consoling Spirit, a loving 
and forgiving Father. Could she then, by 
faith, have reposed her aching head upon the 
bosom of her heavenly Father, she might have 
found a solace such as nothing else could con- 
fer. But at this time nearly every mind in 
France was more or less darkened by the glooms 
of infidelity. 

The winds soon drove her frail bark across 



THE MARRIAGE OF JOSEPHINE. 37 

the Atlantic, and Josephine, pale and sorrow- 
stricken, was clasped in the arms and folded to 
the hearts of those who truly loved her. The 
affectionate negroes gathered around her, with 




Natives of Martinique, 
loud demonstrations of their sympathy and 
their joy in again meeting their mistress. 
Here, amid the quiet scenes endeared to her 
by the recollections of childhood, she found a 
temporary respite from those storms by which 
she had been so severely tossed upon life's wild 
and tempestuous ocean. 







CHAPTER III. 



ARREST OP M. BEAUHARKAIS AND JOSEPHINE. 



Josephine remained in Martinique three 
years. She passed her time in tranquil sad- 
ness, engaged in reading, in educating Hortense, 
and in unwearied acts of kindness to those 
around her. Like all noble minds, she had a 
great fondness for the beauties of nature. The 
luxuriant groves of the tropics, the serene skies 
which overarched her head, the gentle zephyrs 
which breathed through orange groves, all were 
congenial with her pensive spirit. The thought 
of Eugene, her beautiful boy, so far from her, 
preyed deeply upon her heart. Often she re- 
tired alone to some of those lonely walks which 
she loved so well, and wept over her alienated 
husband and her lost child. 

M. Beauharnais surrendered himself for a 
time, without restraint, to every indulgence. 
He tried, in the society of sin and shame, to 
forget his wife and his absent daughter. He, 
however, soon found that no friend can take 
the place of a virtuous and an affectionate wife. 

38 



ARREST OF JOSEPHINE. 39 

The memory of Josephine's gentleness, and 
tenderness, and love came flooding back upon 
his heart. He became fully convinced of his 
injustice to her, and earnestly desired to have 
her restored again to him and to his home. He 
sent communications to Josephine, expressive 
of his deep regret for the past, promising 
amendment for the future, assuring her of his 
high appreciation of her elevated and honorable 
character, and imploring her to return with 
Hortense, thus to reunite the divided and sor- 
row-stricken household. It was indeed a grati- 
fication to Josephine to receive from her hus- 
band the acknowledgment that she had never 
ceased to deserve his confidence. The thought 
of again pressing Eugene to her bosom filled a 
mother's heart with rapture. Still, the griefs 
which had weighed upon her were so heavy, 
that she confessed to her friends that, were it 
not for the love which she bore Eugene, she 
would greatly prefer to spend the remnant of 
her days upon her favorite island. Her friends 
did everything in their power to dissuade her 
from leaving Martinique. But a mother's un- 
dying love triumphed, and again she embarked 
for France. 

In subsequent years, when surrounded by 
all the splendors of royalty, she related to some 
of the ladies of her court, with that unaffected 
simplicity which ever marked her character, 



40 JOSEPHINE. 

the following incident, which occurred during 
this voyage. The ladies were admiring some 
brilliant jewels which were spread out before 
them. Josephine said to them, " My young 
friends, believe me, splendor does not consti- 
tute happiness. I at one time received greater 
enjoyment from the gift of a pair of old shoes 
tjian all these diamonds have ever afforded me.^^ 
The curiosity of her auditors was, of course, 
greatly excited, and they entreated her to ex- 
plain her meaning. 

" Yes, young ladies,'^ Josephine continued, 
'*^ of all the presents I ever received, the one 
which gave me the greatest pleasure was a pair 
of old sJwes, and those, too, of coarse leather. 
When I last returned to France from Marti- 
nique, having separated from my first husband, 
I was far from rich. The passage-money ex- 
hausted my resources, and it was not without 
difficulty that I obtained the indispensable re- 
quisites for our voyage. Hortense, obliging 
and lively, performing with much agility the 
dances of the negroes, and singing their songs 
with surprising correctness, greatly amused the 
sailors, who, from being her constant play- 
fellows, had become her favorite society. An 
old sailor became particularly attached to the 
child, and she doted upon the old man. What 
Avith running, leaping, and walking, my daugh- 
ter's slight shoes were fairly worn out. Know- 



ARREST OF JOSEPHINE. 41 

ing that she had not another pair, and fearing 
I would forbid her going upon deck, should 
this defect in her attire be discovered, Hor- 
tense carefully concealed the disaster. One 
day I experienced the distress of seeing her 
return from the deck leaving every foot-mark 
in blood. When examining how matters stood, 
I found her shoes literally in tatters, and her 
feet dreadfully torn by a nail. We were as yet 
not more than half way across the ocean, and 
it seemed impossible to procure another pair of 
shoes. I felt quite overcome at the idea of the 
sorrow my poor Hortense would suffer, as also 
at the danger to which her health might be 
exposed by confinement in my miserable little 
cabin. At this moment our good friend, the 
old sailor, entered and inquired the cause of 
our distress. Hortense, sobbing all the while, 
eagerly informed him that she could no more 
go upon deck, for her shoes were worn out, 
and mamma had no others to give her. ' Non- 
sense,^ said the worthy seaman, ' is that all ? 
I have an old pair somewhere in my chest ; I 
will go and seek them. You, mxadam, can cut 
them to shape, and I will splice them up as well 
as need be.^ Without waiting for a reply, 
away hastened the kind sailor in search of his 
old shoes ; these he soon after brought to 
us with a triumphant air, and they were re- 
ceived by Hortense with demonstrations of the 

4 — Josephine 



42 JOSEPHINE. 

most lively joy. "We set to work with all zeal, 
and before the day closed my daughter could 
resume her delightful duties of supplying their 
evening^s diversion to the crew. I again repeat, 
never was present received with greater thank- 
fulness. It has since often been matter of self- 
reproach that I did not particularly inquire 
into the name and history of our benefactor. 
It would have been gratifying for me to have 
done something for him when afterward means 
were in my power. ^^ 

Poor Hortense ! most wonderful were the 
vicissitudes of her checkered and joyless life. 
We here meet her, almost an infant, in poverty 
and obscurity. The mother and child arrive in 
Paris on the morning of that Eeign of Terror, 
the story of which has made the ear of humanity 
to tingle. Hortense is deprived of both her 
parents, and is left in friendlessness and beg- 
gary in the streets of Paris. A charitable 
neighbor cherished and fed her. Her mother 
is liberated, and married to Napoleon ; and 
Hortense, as daughter of the emperor, is sur- 
rounded with dazzling splendor, such as earth 
has seldom witnessed. We now meet Hortense, 
radiant in youthful beauty, one of the most 
admired and courted in the midst of the glit- 
tering throng, which, like a fairy vision, dazzles 
all eyes in the gorgeous apartments of Ver- 
sailles and St. Cloud. Her person is adorned 



ARREST 01^ JOSEPHINE. 48 

with the most costly fabrics and the most bril- 
liant gems which Europe can afford. The 
nobles and princes of the proudest courts vie 
with each other for the honor of her hand. 
She is led to her sumptuous bridals by Louis 
Bonaparte, brother of the emperor ; becomes 
the spouse of a king, and takes her seat upon 
the throne of Holland. But in the midst of all 
this external splendor she is wretched at heart. 
Not one congenial feeling unites her with the 
companion to whom she is bound. Louis, 
weary of regal pomp and constraint, abdicates 
the throne, and Hortense becomes nnendurably 
weary of her pensive and unambitious spouse. 
They agree to separate ; each to journey along, 
unattended by the other, the remainder of life's 
pilgrimage. Hortense seeks a joyless refuge in 
a secluded castle, in one of the most retired 
valleys of Switzerland. The tornado of coun- 
ter-revolution sweeps over Europe, and all her 
exalted friends and towering hopes are pros- 
trated in the dust. Lingering years of disap- 
pointment and sadness pass over her, and old 
age, with its infirmities, places her upon a dy- 
ing bed. One only child, Louis Napoleon, 
since President of the French Republic, the 
victim of corroding ambition and ceaselessly- 
gnawing discontent, stands at her bedside to 
close her eyes, and to follow her, a solitary and 
lonely mourner, to. the grave. The dream of 



44 JOSEPHINE. 

life has passed. The shadow has vanished 
away. Who can fathom the mystery of the 
creation of such a drama ? 

Josephine arrived in France. She was re- 
ceived most cordially by her husband. Sorrow- 
ful experience had taught him the value of a 
home, and the worth of a pure and a sanctified 
love. Josephine again folded her idolized Eu- 
gene in her arms, and the anguish of past years 
was forgotten in the blissful enjoyments of 
a reunited family. These bright and happy 
days were, however, soon again clouded. The 
French Revolution was now in full career. The 
king and queen were in prison. All law was 
prostrate. M. Beauharnais, at the commence- 
ment of the Revolution, had most cordially 
espoused the cause of popular liberty. He 
stood by the side of La Fayette a companion 
and a supporter. His commanding character 
gave him great influence. He was elected a 
deputy to the Constituent Assembly, and took 
an active part in its proceedings. Upon the 
dissolution of this Assembly, or States-General, 
as it was also called, as by vote none of its 
members were immediately re-eligible, he re- 
tired again to the army ; but when the second 
or Legislative Assembly was dissolved and the 
National Convention was formed, he was re- 
turned as a member, and at two successive 
sessions was elected its president. 



AKKEST OF JOSEPHINE. 45 

The people, having obtained an entire victory 
over monarchy and aristocracy, beheaded the 
king and queen, and drove the nobles from the 
realm. France was now divided into two great 
parties. The Jacobins were so called from an 
old cloister in which they at first held their 
meetings. All of the lowest, most vicious, and 
the reckless of the nation belonged to this 
party. They seemed disposed to overthrow all 
law, human and divine. Marat, Danton, and 
Eobespierre were the blood-stained leaders of 
this wild and furious faction. The Girondists, 
their opponents, were so called from the depart- 
ment of the Gironde, from which most of the 
leaders of this party came. They wished for a 
republic like that of the United States, where 
there should be the protection of life, and prop- 
erty, and liberty, with healthy laws sacredly 
enforced. 

The conflict between the two parties was 
long and terrible. The Jacobins gained the 
victory, and the Girondists were led to the 
guillotine. M. Beauharnais was an active 
member of the Girondist party, of which Ma- 
dame Roland was the soul, and he perished with 
them. Many of the Girondists sought safety 
in concealment and retreat. M. Beauharnais, 
conscious of his political integrity, proudly re- 
fused to save his life by turning his back upon 
his foes. 



46 JOSEPHINE. 

One morning Josephine was sitting in her 
parlor, in a state of great anxiety in reference 
to the fearful commotion of the times, when a 
servant announced that some one wished to 
speak to her. A young man of very gentle and 
prepossessing appearance was nitroduced, with 
a bag in his hand, in which were several pairs 
of shoes. 

'' Citizen," said the man to Josephine, '^ I 
understand that you want socks of plum 
gray." 

Josephine looked up in surprise, hardly com- 
prehending his meaning, when he approached 
nearer to her, and, in an under tone, whispered, 
" I have something to impart to you, ma- 
dame." 

^^ Explain yourself," she eagerly replied, 
much alarmed ; " my servant is faithful." 

'^Ah!" he exclaimed, '''my life is at stake 
in this matter." 

" Go, Victorine," said Josephine to her ser- 
vant, ^' and call my husband." 

As soon as they were alone, the young man 
said, "There is not a moment to lose if you 
would save M. Beauharnais. The Revolution- 
ary Committee last night passed a resolution 
to have him arrested, and at this very moment 
the warrant is making out." 

'' How know you this ? " she demanded, 
trembling violently. 



ARREST OF JOSEPHINE. 47 

*'I am one of the Committee," was the reply, 
'^ and, being a shoemaker, I thought these shoes 
would afford me a reasonable pretext for ad- 
vertising you, madame." 

At this moment M. Beauharnais entered the 
room, and Josephine, weeping, threw herself 
into his arms. '^ You see my husband," she 
said to the shoemaker. 

*^ I have the honor of knowing him," was the 
reply. 

M. Beauharnais wished to reward the young 
man on the spot for his magnanimous and per- 
ilous deed of kindness. The offer was respect- 
fully but decisively declined. To the earnest 
entreaties of Josephine and the young man that 
he should immediately secure his safety by his 
flight or concealment, he replied, 

" I will never flee ; with what can they charge 
me ? I love liberty. I have borne arms for the 
Kevolution." 

" But you are a noble," the young man re- 
joined, "and that, in the eye of the Revolution- 
ists, is a crime — an unpardonable crime. And, 
moreover, they accuse you of having been a 
member of the Constitutional Assembly." 
^" That," said M. Beauharnais, " is my most 
honorable title to glory. Who would not be 
proud of having proclaimed the rights of the 
nation, the fall of despotism, and the reign of 
laws?" 



48 JOSEPHINE. 

'^ What laws ! " exclaimed Josephine. '' It 
is in blood they are written.'' 

^^ Madame," exclaimed the philanthropic 
young Jacobin, with a tone of severity, " when 
the tree of liberty is planted in an unfriendly 
soil, it must be watered with the blood of its 
enemies." Then, turning to M. Beauharnais, 
he said, '^ Within an hour it will no longer be 
possible to escape. I wished to save you, be- 
cause I believe you innocent. Such was my 
duty to humanity. But if I am commanded to 
arrest you — pardon me — T shall do my duty ; 
and you will acknowledge the patriot." 

The young shoemaker withdrew, and Jose- 
phine in vain entreated her husband to attempt 
his escape. *' Whither shall I flee ?" he an- 
swered. " Is there a vault, a garret, a hiding- 
place into which the eye of the tyrant Robes- 
pierre does not penetrate ? We must yield. If 
I am condemned, how can I escape ? If I am 
not condemned, I have nothing to fear." 

About two hours elapsed when three mem- 
bers of the Revolutionary Committee, accom- 
panied by a band of armed men, broke into the 
house. The young shoemaker was one of this 
committee, and with firmness, but with muci 
urbanity, he arrested M. Beauharnais. Jose- 
phine, as her husband was led to prison, was 
left in her desolated home. And she found 
herself indeed deserted and alone. No one 



ARREST OF JOSEPHINE. 49 

could then manifest any sympathy with the 
proscribed without periling life. Josephine's 
friends, one by one, all abandoned her. The 
young shoemaker alone, who had arrested her 
husband, continued secretly to call with words 
of sympathy. 

Josephine made great exertions to obtain the 
release of her husband, and was also unwearied 
in her benefactions to multitudes around her 
who, in those days of lawlessness and of an- 
guish, were deprived of property, of friends, 
and of home. The only solace she found in her 
own grief was in ministering to the consola- 
tion of others. Josephine, from the kindest of 
motives, but very injudiciously, deceived her 
children in reference to their father's arrest, 
and led them to suppose that he was absent 
from home in consequence of ill health. When 
at last she obtained permission to visit, with her 
children, her husband in prison, they detected 
the deceit. After returning from the prison 
after their first interview, Hortense remarked 
toiler mother that she thought her father's 
apartment very small, and the patients very nu- 
merous. She appeared for a time very thought- 
ful, and then inquired of Eugene, with an 
anxious expression of countenance, 

*' Do you believe that papa is ill ? If he is, 
it certainly is not the sickness which the doctors 
cure." 



50 JOSEPHINE. 

" What do you mean, my dear child ? " asked 
Josephine. ** Can you suppose that papa and 
I would contrive between us to deceive you ? " 

^^ Pardon me, mamma, but I do think so." 

'^ Why, sister, " exclaimed Eugene, '' how 
can you say so ?" 

'' Good parents, ' she replied, *' are unques- 
tionably permitted to deceive their children 
when they wish to spare them uneasiness. Is 
it not so, mamma ? " 

Josephine was not a little embarrassed by this 
detection, and was compelled to acknowledge 
that which it was no longer possible to conceal. 

In the interview which M. Beauharnais held 
with his wife and his children, he spoke with 
some freedom to his children of the injustice of 
his imprisonment. This sealed his doom. List- 
eners, who were placed in an adjoining room to 
note down his words, reported the conversation, 
and magnified it into a conspiracy for the over- 
throw of the republic. M. Beauharnaias was 
immediately placed in close confinement. Jo- 
sephine herself was arrested and plunged into 
prison, and even the terrified children were 
rigidly examined by a brutal committee, who, 
by promises and by threats, did what they 
could to extort from them some confession 
which would lead to the conviction of their 
parents. 

Josephine, the morning of her arrest, received 



ARREST OF JOSEPHINE. 61 

an anonymous letter, warning her of her dan- 
ger. It was at an early hour, and her children 
were asleep in their beds. But how could she 
escape ? Where could she go ? Should she 
leave her children behind her — a mother 
abandon her children ! Should she take them 
with her, and thus prevent the possibility of 
eluding arrest ? Would not her attempt at 
flight be construed into a confession of guilt, and 
thus compromise the safety of her hus- 
band ? While distracted with these thoughts, 
she heard a loud knocking and clamor at the 
outer door of the house. She understood too 
well the significance of those sounds. With a 
great effort to retain a tranquil spirit, she passed 
into the room where her children were sleep- 
ing. As she fixed her eyes upon them, so 
sweetly lost in slumber, and thought of the 
utter abandonment to which they were doomed 
her heart throbbed with anguish, and tears, of 
such bitterness as are seldom shed upon earth, 
filled her eyes. She bent over her daughter, 
and imprinted a mother^s farewell kiss upon 
her forehead. The affectionate child, though 
asleep, clasped her arms around her mother's 
neck, and, speaking the thoughts of the dream 
passing through her mind, said, ^^ Come to 
bed. Fear nothing. They shall not take you 
away this night. I have prayed to God for you." 
The tumult in the outer hall continually in- 



52 JOSEPHINE. 

creasing, Josephine, fearful of awaking Hor- 
tense and Eugene, cast a last lingering look of 
love upon them, and, withdrawing from the 
chamber, closed the door and entered her parlor. 
There she found a band of armed men, headed 
by the brutal wretch who had so unfeelingly 
examined her children. The soldiers were 
hardened against every appeal of humanity, and 
performed their unfeeling office without any 
emotion, save that of hatred for one whom they 
deemed to be an aristocrat. They seized Jose- 
phine rudely, and took possession of all the 
property in the house in the name of the Ee- 
public. They dragged their victim to the con- 
vent of the Carmelites, and she was immured 
in that prison, where, but a few months before, 
more than eight thousand had been massacred 
by the mob of Paris. Even the blackest an- 
nals of religious fanaticism can record no out- 
rages more horrible than those which rampant 
infidelity perpetrated in these days of its tem- 
porary triumphs. 

When Eugene and Hortense awoke, they 
found themselves indeed alone in the wide world. 
They were informed by a servant of the arrest 
and the imprisonment of their mother. The 
times had long been so troubled, and the chil- 
dren were so familiar with the recital of such 
scenes of violence, that they were prepared to 
meet these fearful perplexities with no little 




Viscount Alexander de Beauharnais. 



ARREST OF JOSEPHINE. 58 

degree of discretion. After a few tears, they 
tried to summon resolution to act worthily of 
their father and mother. Hortense, with that 
energy of character which she manifested 
through her whole life, advised that they should 
go to the Luxembourg, where their father was 
confined, and demand admission to share his 
imprisonment. Eugene, with that caution 
which characterized him when one of the lead- 
ers in the army of Napoleon, and when viceroy 
of Italy, apprehensive lest thus they might in 
some way compromise the safety of their father, 
recalled to mind an aged great-aunt, who was 
residing in much retirement in the vicinity of 
Versailles, and suggested the propriety of seek- 
ing a refuge with her. An humble female 
friend conducted the children to Versailles, 
where they were most kindly received. 

When the gloom of the ensuing night dark- 
ened the city, M. Beauharnais in his cheerless 
cell, and Josephine in her prison still stained 
with the blood of massacre, wept over the des- 
olation of their home and their hopes. They 
knew not the fate of their children, and their 
minds were oppressed with the most gloomy 
forebodings. On the ensuing day, Josephine's 
heart was cheered with the tidings of their 
safety. Such was the second terrific storm 
which Josephine encountered on life's dark 
waters. 




CHAPTER IV. 



SCENES IN PRISON. 



The Convent of the Carmelites, in which 
Josephine was imprisoned, had acquired a 
fearful celebrity during the Reign of Terror. 
It was a vast and gloomy pile, so capacious in 
its halls, its chapel, its cells, and its subterra- 
nean dungeons, that at one time nearly ten 
thousand prisoners were immured within its 
frowning walls. In every part of the building 
the floors were still deeply stained with the 
blood of the recent massacres. The infuriated 
men and women, intoxicated with rum and 
rage, who had broken into the prison, dragged 
multitudes of their victims, many of whom were 
priests, into the chapel, that they might, in de- 
rision of religion, poniard them before the altar. 
About three hundred thousand innocent victims 
of the Revolution now crowded the prisons of 
France. These unhappy captives, awaiting the 
hour of their execution, were not the ignorant, 
the debased, the degraded, but the noblest, the 

purest, the most refined of the citizens of the 
54 



SCENES IK PRISON. 55 

republic. Josephine was placed in the chapel 
of the convent, where she found one hundred 
and sixty men and women as the sharers of her 
captivity. 

The natural buoyancy of her disposition led 
her to take as cheerful a view as possible of the 
calamity in which the family was involved. 
Being confident that no serious charge could be 
brought against her husband, she clung to the 
hope that they both would soon be liberated, 
and that happy days were again to dawn upon 
her reunited household. She wrote cheering 
letters to her husband and to her children. Her 
smiling countenance and words of kindness an- 
imated with new courage the grief-stricken and 
the despairing who surrounded her. She im- 
mediately became a universal favorite with the 
inmates of the prison. Her instinctive tact en- 
abled her to approach all acceptably, whatever 
their rank or character. She soon became 
prominent in influence among the prisoners, 
and reigned there, as everywhere else, over the 
hearts of willing subjects. Her composure, her 
cheerfulness, her clear and melodious voice, 
caused her to be selected to read, each day, to 
the ladies, the journal of the preceding day. 
From their windows they could see, each morn- 
ing, the carts bearing through the streets their 
burden of unhappy victims who were to perish 
on the scaffold. Not unf requently a wife would 

5 — Josephiutt 



56 JOSEPHINE. 

catch a glimpse of her husband, or a mother of 
her son, borne past the grated windows in the 
cart of the condemned. Who can tell the fear 
and anguish with which the catalogue of the 
guillotined was read, when each trembling heart 
apprehended that the next word might an- 
nounce that some loved one had perished ? Not 
unfrequently a piercing shriek, and a fainting 
form falling lifeless upon the floor, revealed 
upon whose heart the blow had fallen. 

Hortense, impetuous and unreflecting, was so 
impatient to see her mother, that one morning 
she secretly left her aunt's house, and, in a 
market cart, traveled thirty miles to Paris. She 
found her mother's maid, Victorine, at the fam- 
ily mansion, where all the property was sealed 
up by the revolutionary functionaries. After 
making unavailing efforts to obtain an interview 
with her parents, she returned the next day to 
Fontainebleau. Josephine was informed of this 
imprudent act of ardent affection, and wrote to 
her child the following admirable letter : 

" I should be entirely satisfied with the good 
heart of my Hortense were I not displeased with 
her bad head. How is it, my daughter, that, 
without permission from your aunt, you have 
come to Paris ? This was very wrong ! But 
it was to see me, you will say. You ought to 
be aware that no one can see me without an 
order, to obtain which requires both means and 



SCENES IN PRISON. 67 

precautions. And, besides, you got upon M. 
Dor^^t^s cart, at the risk of incommoding him 
and retarding the conveyance of his merchan- 
dise. In all this you have been very inconsid- 
erate. My child ! observe, it ia not sufficient 
to do good ; you must also do good properly. 
At your age, the first of all virtues is confidence 
and docility toward your relations. I am there- 
fore obliged to tell you that I prefer your tran- 
quil attachment to your misplaced warmth. 
This, however, does not prevent me from em- 
bracing you, but -less tenderly than I shall do 
when I learn that you have returned to your 
aunt." 

There was at this time, for some unknown 
reason, a little mitigation in the severity with 
which the prisoners were treated, and Jose- 
phine was very sanguine in the belief that the 
hour of their release was at hand. Emboldened 
by this hope, she wrote a very earnest appeal 
to the Committee of Public Safety, before 
whom the accusations against M. Beauharnais 
would be brought. The sincerity and frank- 
ness of the eloquent address so touched the 
feelings of the president of the committee, that 
he resolved to secure for Josephine and her 
husband the indulgence of an interview. The 
greatest caution was necessary in doing this, 
for he periled his own life by the manifestation 
of any sympathy for the accused. 



58 JOSEPHINE. 

The only way in which he could accomplish 
his benevolent project was to have them both 
brought together for trial. Neither of them 
knew of this design. One morning Josephine, 
while dreaming of liberty and of her children, 
was startled by the unexpected summons to 
appear before the Revolutionary tribunal. She 
knew that justice had no voice which could be 
heard before that merciless and sanguinary 
court. She knew that the mockery of a trial 
was but the precursor of the sentence, which 
was immediately followed by the execution. 
From her high hopes this summons caused a 
fearful fall. Thoughts of her husband and her 
children rushed in upon her overflowing heart, 
and the tenderness of the woman for a few 
moments triumphed over the heroine. Soon, 
however, regaining in some degree her compos- 
ure, she prepared herself, with as much calm- 
ness as possible, to meet her doom. She was 
led from her prison to the hall where the 
blood-stained tribunal held its session, and, 
with many others, was placed in an anteroom, 
to await her turn for an examination of a few 
minutes, upon the issues of which life or death 
was suspended. While Josephine was sitting 
here, in the anguish of suspense, an opposite 
door was opened, and some armed soldiers led 
in a group of victims from another prison. As 
Josephine^s eye vacantly wandered over their 



SCENES IN PBISON. 59 

features, she was startled by the entrance of 
one whose wan and haggard features strikingly 
reminded her of her husband. She looked 
again, their eyes met, and husband and wife 
were instantly locked in each other's embrace. 
At this interview, the stoicism of M. Beauhar* 
nais was entirely subdued — the thoughts of 
the past, of his unworthiness, of the faithful 
and generous love of Josephine, rushed in a re- 
sistless flood upon his soul. He leaned his 
aching head upon the forgiving bosom of Jose- 
phine, and surrendered himself to love, and 
penitence, and tears. 

This brief and painful interview was their 
last. They never met again. They were 
allowed but a few moments together ere the 
officers came and dragged M. Beauharnais be- 
fore the judges. His examination lasted but a 
few minutes, when he was remanded back to 
prison. Nothing was proved against him. No 
serious accusation even was laid to his charge. 
Bat he was a noble. He had descended from 
illustrious ancestors, and therefore, as an aris- 
tocrat, he was doomed to die. Josephine was 
also conducted into the presence of this sanguin- 
ary tribunal. She was the wife of a nobleman. 
She was the friend of Maria Antoinette. She 
had even received distinguished attentions at 
court. These crimes consigned her also to the 
guillotine. Josephine was conducted back to 



60 josEPSiKii. 

her prison, unconscious of the sentence which 
had been pronounced against her husband and 
herself. She even cherished the sanguine 
hope that they would soon be liberated, for she 
could not think it possible that they could be 
doomed to death without even the accusation 
of crime. 

Each evening there was brought into the 
prison a list of the names of those who were to 
be led to the guillotine on the ensuing morning. 
A few days after the trial, on the evening of 
the 24th of July, 1794, M. Beauharnais found 
his name with the proscribed who were to be 
led to the scaffold with the light of the next 
day. Love for his wife and his children ren- 
dered life too precious to him to be surrendered 
without anguish. But sorrow had subdued his 
heart, and led him with prayerfulness to look 
to God for strength to meet the trial. The 
native dignity of his character also nerved him 
to meet his fate with fortitude. 

He sat down calmly in his cell, and wrote a 
long, affectionate, and touching letter to his 
wife. He assured her of his most heartfelt ap- 
preciation of the purity and nobleness of her 
character, and of her priceless worth as a wife 
and a mother. He thanked her again and again 
for the generous spirit with which she forgave 
his offenses, when, weary and contrite, he 
returned from his guilty wanderings, and anew 



SCENES IN PRISON. 61 

sought her love. He implored her to cherish 
in the hearts of his children the memory of 
their father, that, though dead, he might still 
live in their affections. While he was writing, 
the executioners came in to cut off his long hair, 
that the ax might do its work unimpeded. 
Picking up a small lock from the floor, he 
wished to transmit it to his wife as his last 
legacy. The brutal executioners forbade him 
the privilege. He, however, succeeded in pur- 
chasing from them a few hairs, which he in- 
closed in his letter, and which she subsequently 
received. 

In the early dawn of the morning, the cart 
of the condemned was at the prison door. The 
Parisians were beginning to be weary of the 
abundant flow of blood, and Robespierre had 
therefore caused the guillotine to be removed 
from the Place de la Revolution to an obscure 
spot in the Faubourg St. Antoine. A large 
number of victims were doomed to die that 
morning. The carts, as they rolled along the 
pavements, groaned with their burdens, and the 
persons in the streets looked^on in sullen silence, 
M. Beauharnais, with firmness, ascended the 
scaffold. The slide of the guillotine fell, and 
the brief drama of his stormy life was ended. 

While the mutilated form of M. Beauharnais 
was borne to an ignoble burial, Josephine, en- 
tirely unconscious of the calamity which had 



62 JOSEPHINE. 

befallen her, was cheering her heart with the 
tope of a speedy union with her husband and 
her children in their own loved home. The 
morning after the execution, the daily journal, 
containing the names of those who had perished 
on the preceding day, was brought, as usual, to 
the prison. Some of the ladies in the prison 
had received the intimation that M. Beauhar- 
nais had fallen. They watched, therefore, the 
arrival of the journal, and, finding their fears 
established, they tried, for a time, to conceal 
the dreadful intelligence from the unconscious 
widow. But Josephine was eagerly inquiring 
for the paper, and at last obtaining it, she ran 
her eye hastily over the record of executions, 
and found the name of her husband in the fatal 
list. She fell senseless upon the floor. For a 
long time she remained in a swoon. When 
consciousness returned, and with it a sense of 
the misery into which she was plunged, in the 
delirium of her anguish she exclaimed, " Oh 
God ! let me die ! let me die ! There is no 
peace for me but in the grave. '^ 

Her friends gathered around her. They im- 
plored her to think of her children, and for their 
sake to prize a life she could no longer prize for 
her own. The poignancy of her grief gradually 
subsided into the calm of despair. A sleep- 
less night lingered slowly away. The darkness 
and the gloom of a prison settled down upon 



SCENES IN PRISON. 68 

her soul. The morning dawned drearily. A 
band of rough and merciless agents from the 
Eevolutionary Assembly came to her with the 
almost welcome intelligence that in two days 
she was to be led to the Conciergerie, and from 
thence to her execution. These tidings would 
have been joyful to Josephine were it not for 
her children. A mother^s love clung to the or- 
phans, and it was with pain inexpressible that 
she thought of leaving them alone in this tem- 
pestuous world — a world made so stormy, so 
woeful, by man's inhumanity to his fellow-man. 
The day preceding the one assigned for her 
execution arrived. The numerous friends of 
Josephine in the prison hung around her with 
tears. The heartless jailer came and took away 
her mattress, saying, with a sneer, that she 
would need it no longer, as her head was soon 
to repose upon the soft pillow of the guillotine. 
It is reported that, as the hour of execution 
drew nearer, Josephine became not only per- 
fectly calm, but even cheerful in spirit. She 
looked affectionately upon the weeping group 
gathered around her, and, recalling at the mo- 
ment the prediction of the aged negress, gently 
smiling, said, ^' We have no cause for alarm, 
my friends ; I am not to be executed. It is 
written in the decrees of Pate that I am yet to 
be Queen of France." Some of her friends 
thought that the suppressed anguish of her heait 



64 JOSEPHIKE. 

had driven her to delirium,* and they wept more 
bitterly. But one of the ladies, Madame d^'Ai- 
guillon, was a little irritated at pleasantry which 
she deemed so ill timed. With something like 
resentment, she asked, ''Why, then, madame, 
do you not appoint your household ?" '' Ah ! 
that is true,^^ Josephine replied. '' I had for- 
gotten. Well, you, my dear, shall be my maid 
of honor. I promise you the situation. '' They 
both lived to witness the strange fulfillment of 
this promise. Josephine, however, who, from 
the circumstances of her early life, was inclined 
to credulity, afterward declared that at the time 
her mind reposed in the full confidence that in 
some way her life would be saved, and that the 
prediction of the negress would be virtually 
realized. 

The shades of night settled down around the 
gloomy convent, enveloping in their folds the 
despairing hearts which thronged this abode 
of woe. Suddenly the most exultant shout of 
joy burst from every lip, and echoed along 
through corridors, and dungeons, and grated 
cells. There was weeping and fainting for rap- 
ture inexpressible. The prisoners leaped into 
each other's arms, and, frantic with happiness, 
clung together in that long and heartfelt em- 
brace which none can appreciate but those who 
have been companions in woe. Into the black- 
ness of their midnight there had suddenly burst 



SCENES IN PRISON. 



65 



the blaze of noonday. What caused this ap- 
parently miraculous c]iange ? The iron-hearted 
jailer had passed along, announcing, in coarsest 




phrase, that Kobespieere was guillotined. 
There had been a new revolution. The tyrant 
had fallen. The prisons which he had filled 
with victims were to be emptied of their 
captives. 




CHAPTER Y. 



THE EELEASE FEOM PRISOI^. 

The overthrow of Robespierre, and the con- 
sequent escape of Josephine from the doom 
impending over her, was in the following man- 
ner most strangely accomplished. The tyranny 
of Robespierre had become nearly insupport- 
able. Conspiracies were beginning to be 
formed to attempt his overthrow. A lady of 
great beauty and celebrity, Madame de Fon- 
tenay, was imprisoned with Josephine. M. 
Tallien, a man of much influence with a new 
party then rising into power, had conceived a 
strong attachment for this lady, and though 
he could not safely indulge himself in inter- 
views with her in prison, he was in the habit 
of coming daily to the Convent of the Carmel^ 
ites that he might have the satisfaction of 
catching a glimpse of the one he loved through 
her grated window. 

Madame de Fontenay had received secret in- 
telligence that she was soon to be led before the 

Convention for trial. This she knew to be but 
66 



THE RELEASE FROM PRISON. 67 

the prelude of her execution. That evening 
M. Tallien appeai-ed as usual before the guarded 
casement of the Carmelites. Madame de Fon- 
tenay and Josephine, arm in arm, leaned 
against the bars of the window, as if to breathe 
the fresh evening air, and made a sign to arrest 
M. Tallien^s particular attention. They then 
dropped from the window a piece of cabbage- 
leaf, in which Madame de Fontenay had in- 
closed the following note : 

^' My trial is decreed — the result is certain. 
If you love me as you say, urge every means to 
save France and me.^' 

With intense interest, they watched the mo- 
tions of M. Tallien until they saw him take the 
cabbage-leaf from the ground. Eoused by the 
billet to the consciousness of the necessity of 
immediate action, he proceeded to the Conven- 
tion, and, with the impassioned energy which 
love for Madame de Fontenay and hatred of 
Eobespierre inspired, made an energetic and 
fearless assault upon the tyrant. Robespierre, 
pale and trembling, saw that his hour had 
come. A decree of accusation was preferred 
against him, and the head of the merciless des- 
pot fell upon that guillotine where he had 'al- 
ready caused so many thousands to perish. The 
day before Josephine was to have been exe- 
cuted, he was led, mangled and bleeding, to the 
scaffold. He had attempted to commit suicide. 



68 jOSEPHliJfi. 

The ball missed its aim, but shattered his jaW. 
The wretched man ascended the ladder, and 
stood upon the platform of the guillotine. The 
executioners tore the bandage from his man- 
gled face, that the linen might not impede the 
blow of the ax. Their rude treatment of the 
inflamed wound extorted a cry of agony, which 
thrilled upon the ear of the assembled crowd, 
and produced a silence as of the grave. The 
next moment the slide fell, and the mutilated 
head was severed from the body. Then the 
very heavens seemed rent by one long, loud, ex- 
ulting shout, which proclaimed that Eobespierre 
was no more ! 

The death of Eobespierre arrested the ax 
which was just about to fall upon the head of 
Josephine. The first intimation of his over- 
throw was communicated to her in the follow- 
ing singular manner. Madame d'Aiguillon 
was weeping bitterly, and sinking down with 
faintness in view of the bloody death to which 
her friend was to be led on the morrow. Jo- 
sephine, whose fortitude had not forsaken her, 
drew her almost senseless companion to the 
window, that she might be revived by the fresh 
air. Her attention was arrested by a woman 
of the lower orders in the street, who was con- 
tinually looking up to the window, beckoning 
to Josephine, and making many very singular 
gestures. She seemed to desire to call her at- 



THE RELEASE FROM PRISON. 69 

tention particularly to the robe which she wore, 
holding it up, and pointing to it again and 
again. Josephine, through the iron grating, 
cried out Rohe. The woman eagerly gave signs 
of assent, and immediately took up a stone, 
which in French is Pierre. Josephine again 
cried out pierre. The woman appeared over- 
joyed on perceiving that her pantomime began 
to be understood. She then put the two to- 
gether, pointing alternately to the one and to 
the other. Josephine cried out Robespierre. 
The woman then began to dance and shout 
with delight, and made signs of cutting off a 
head. 

This pantomime excited emotions in the 
bosom of Josephine which cannot be described. 
She hardly dared to believe that the tyrant had 
actually fallen, and yet she knew not how else 
to account for the singular conduct of the wom- 
an. But a few moments elapsed before a great 
noise was heard in the corridor of the prison. 
The turnkey, in loud and fearless tones, cried 
out to his dog, '^ Get out, you cursed brute of 
a Kobespierre \" This emphatic phraseology 
convinced them that the sanguinary monster 
before whom all France had trembled was no 
longer to be feared. In a few moments the 
glad tidings were resounding through the pris- 
on, and many were in an instant raised from 
the abyss of despair to almost a delirium of bliss. 



70 JOSEPHINE. 

Josephine's bed was restored to her, and she 
placed her head upon her pillow that night, and 
sank down to the most calm and delightful 
repose. 

No language can describe the transports ex- 
cited throughout all France by thft tidings of 
the fall of Robespierre. Three hundred thou- 
sand captives were then lingering in the prisons 
of Paris awaiting death. As the glittering steel 
severed the head of the tyrant from his body, 
their prison doors burst open, and France was 
filled with hearts throbbing with ecstasy, and 
with eyes overflowing with tears of rapture. 
Five hundred thousand fugitives were trembling 
in their retreats, apprehensive of arrest. They 
issued from their hiding-places frantic with joy, 
and every village witnessed their tears and em- 
braces. 

The new party which now came into power, 
with Tallien at its head, immediately liberated 
those who had been condemned by their oppo- 
nents, and the prison doors of Josephine were 
thrown open to her. But from the gloom of 
her cell she returned to a world still dark and 
clouded. Her husband had been beheaded, and 
all his property confiscated. She found herself 
a widow and penniless. Nearly all of her friends 
had perished in the storms which had swept over 
France. The Reign of Terror had passed away, 
but gaunt famine was staring the nation in the 



THE RELEASE FROM PRISON. Tl 

face. They were moments of ecstasy when Jo- 
sephine, again f ree,pressed Eugene and Hortense 
to her heart. But the most serious embarrass- 
ments immediately crowded upon her. Pover- 
ty, stern and apparently remedeiless, was her lot. 
She had no friends upon whom she had any 
right to call for aid. There was no employment 
open before her by which she could obtain her 
subsistence ; and it appeared that she and her 
children were to be reduced to absolute beggary. 
These were among the darkest hours of her 
earthly career. It was from this abyss of .ob- 
scurity and "vrant that she was to be raised to a 
position of splendor and of power such as the 
wildest dreams of earthly ambition could hardly 
have conceived. 

Though Kobespierre was dead, the strife of 
rancorous parties raged with unabated violence, 
and blood flowed freely. The reign of the mob 
still continued, and it was a mark of patriotism 
demanded by the clamors of haggard want and 
degradation to persecute all of noble blood. 
Young girls from the boarding-schools, and boys 
just emerging from the period of childhood, 
were beheaded by the guillotine. *' We must 
exterminate," said Marat, ^'all the whelps of 
aristocracy. '^ Josephine trembled for her chil- 
dren. Poverty, and the desire of concealing 
Eugene among the mass of the people, induced 
her to apprentice her son to a house carpenter. 

5_josephine 



72 JOSEPHINE. 

For several months Eugene cheerfully and la- 
boriously toiled in this humble occupation. But 
the sentiments he had imbibed from both father 
and mother ennobled him, and every day pro- 
duced new developments of a lofty character, 
which no circumstances could long depress. 

Let such a woman as Josephine, with her 
cheerful, magnanimous, self-sacrificing, and 
generous spirit, be left destitute in any place 
where human beings are congregated, and she 
will soon inevitably meet with those who will 
feel^honored in securing her friendship and in 
offering her a home. Every fireside has a wel- 
come for a noble heart. Madame Dumoulin, a 
lady of great elevation of character, whose large 
fortune had by some chance escaped the general 
wreck, invited Josephine to her house, and 
freely supplied her wants. Madame Fontenay, 
also, who was a woman of great beauty and ac- 
complishments, soon after her liberation was 
married to M. Tallien, to whom she had tossed 
the note, inclosed in a cabbage-leaf, from her 
prison window. It was this note which had so 
suddenly secured the overthrow of the tyrant, 
and had rescued so many from the guillotine. 
They both became the firm friends of Josephine. 
Others, also, soon became strongly attracted to 
her by the loveliness of her character, and were 
ambitious to supply all her wants. 

Through M. Tallien, she urged her claim 



THE RELEASE FROM PRISON. 73 

upon the National Convention for the restora- 
tion of her confiscated property. After a long 
and tedious process, she succeeded in regaining 
such a portion of her estate as to provide her 
amply with all the comforts of life. Again she 
had her own peaceful home, with Eugene and 
Hortense by her side. Her natural buoyancy 
of spirits rose superior to the storms which had 
swept so mercilessly over her, and in the love 
of her idolized children, and surrounded by the 
sympathies of appreciative ' friends, days of 
serenity, and even of joy, began to shine upon 
her. 

A domestic scene occurred in the dwelling 
of Josephine on the anniversary of the death of 
M. Beauharnais peculiarly characteristic of the 
times and of the French people. Josephine 
called Eugene to her room, and presented to 
him a portrait of his father. ^' Carry it to your 
chamber," my son, she said, ^' and often let it 
be the object of your contemplations. Above 
all, let him whose image it presents be your 
constant model. He was the most amiable of 
men ; he would have been the best of fathers." 

Eugene was a young man of that enthusi- 
astic genius which is the almost invariable ac- 
companiment of a noble character. His emo- 
tions were deeply excited. With the charac- 
teristic ardor of his countrymen, he covered the 
portrait with kisses, and wept freely. Josephine 



T4 JOSEPHINE. 

folded her noble boy in her embrace, and they 
mingled their tears together. 

In the evening, as Josephine was sitting 
alone in her parlor, her son entered, accompa- 
nied by six young men, his companions, each 
decorated with a copy of the portrait of M. 
Beauharnais suspended from the neck by a black 
and white ribbon. ''' You see," said Eugene to 
his mother, '^ the founders of a new order of 
knighthood. Behold our tutelary saint," point- 
ing to the portrait of his father. *^ And these 
are the first members." He then introduced 
his youthful companions to his mother. 

** Ours," he continued , " is named the Order 
of Filial Love ; and, if you would witness the 
first inauguration, pass with these gentlemen 
into the small drawing-room." 

Josephine entered the drawing-room with the 
youthful group, and found it very tastefully 
ornamented with garlands of ivy, roses, and 
laurels. Inscriptions, taken from the printed 
discourses or remarkable sayings of M. Beau- 
harnais, were suspended upon the walls. Gir- 
andoles, with lighted tapers, brilliantly illumi- 
nated the room. An altar was erected, hung 
with festoons of flowers, and upon this altar 
was placed the full-length portrait of M. Beau- 
harnais. Three crowns of white and red roses 
were suspended from the picture-frame, and in 
front were placed two vases with perfumes. 




line, jace^, j^ 



Eugene de Beauharnaie. 



THE RELEASE FROM PRISON. 75 

The young gentlemen ranged themselves 
about the altar in perfect silence, and, at a con- 
certed signal, eagerly unsheathed the swords 
which they wore at their sides, and, clasping 
hands, solemnly took the oath, ^' To love their 
parents J succor each other, and to defend their 
country. " At this moment, Eugene, unfurl- 
ing and waving a small banner, with its folds 
shaded the head of his father. '^ We then em- 
braced each other," says Josephine, ^' mingling 
tears with smiles, and the most amiable disor- 
der succeeded to the ceremonial of inaugura- 
tion." 

The fascination of Josephine's person and 
address drew multitudes of friends around her, 
and her society was ever coveted. As time 
softened the poignancy of her past sorrows, she 
mingled more and more in the social circles of 
that metropolis where pleasure and gayety ever 
reign. The terrible convulsions of the times 
had thrown the whole fabric of society into con- 
fusion. Great efforts were now made to revive 
the festivities of former days. Two centers of 
society were naturally established. The first 
included that in which Josephine moved. It 
was composed of the remains of the ancient no- 
bility, who had returned to Paris with the frag- 
ments of their families and their shattered for- 
tunes. Rigid economy was necessary to keep 
up any appearance of elegance. But that pol- 



76 JOSEPHINE. 

ish of manners which almost invariably descends 
from an illustrious ancestry marked all their 
intercourse. The humiliations through which 
the nobles had passed had not diminished the 
exclusiveness of their tastes. The other circle 
was composed of merchants and bankers who 
had acquired opulence in the midst of the con- 
fiscations and storms of revolution. The pas- 
sion for display was prominent in all* their as- 
semblies, as is necessarily the case with those 
whose passport to distinction is wealth. 

At the theaters and all the places of public 
festivity, there were presented studied memo- 
rials of the scenes of horror through which all 
had recently passed. One of the most fashion- 
able and brilliant assemblies then known in 
Paris was called The Ball of the Victims. No 
one was admitted to this assembly who had not 
lost some near relative by the guillotine. The 
most fashionable style of dressing the hair was 
jocosely called " a la guillotine." The hair 
was arranged in the manner in which it had 
been adjusted by the executioner for the unim- 
peded operation of the ax. And thus, with 
songs, and dances, and laughter-moving jokes, 
they commemorated the bloody* death of their 
friends. 

A new insurrection by the populace of Paris 
was at this time planned against the Conven- 
tion. The exasperated people were again to 



THE RELEASE FROM PRISON. 77 

march upon the Tuilleries. The members were 
in extreme consternation. The mob could bring 
tens of thousands against them, well armed with 
muskets and heavy artillery. There were but 
five hundred regular troops with which to resist 
the onset. Menou, the officer in command, ac- 
knowledged his inability to meet the crisis, and 
surrendered his power to Barras. This general 
immediately, as by a sudden thought, exclaimed, 
"I know the man who can defend us ! He is 
a little Corsican, who dares do anything, and is 
perfectly reckless of consequences ! " 

The little Corsican, Napoleon Bonaparte, 
the day-star of whose fame was just beginning 
to rise over the smoldering ruins of Toulon, 
was invited to meet the Convention. His 
fragile form was almost feminine in its propor- 
tions, but an eagle eye calmly reposed in his 
pallid and emaciate countenance. He had been 
severely sick, and the Convention 'looked with 
amazement and incredulity upon this feeble 
youth, as the one presented to rescue them 
from their impending peril. 

The president fixed his eye upon him doubt- 
ingly, and said, ^'Are you willing to under- 
take our defense ? " 

'^ Yes !^' was the calm, laconic, and almost 
indifferent reply. 

'^' But are you aware of the magnitude of the 
undertaking ? " 



T8 JOSEPHINE. 

" Fully ! '' said Napoleon, fixing his piercing 
eye upon the president; ^^and I am in the 
habit of accomplishing that which I under- 
take/' 

From that moment his authority was estab- 
lished. Every member of the Convention felt 
the mysterious fascination of his master mind. 
Barras surrendered the whole command into 
his hands. He instantly called into the city 
al? the national forces which were around Paris, 
and disposed fifty pieces of heavy artillery, 
under the command of Murat, so as to rake all 
the avenues to the Convention. His calm and 
almost superhuman energy sought no repose 
that night. The delay of but a few moments 
would have placed this very park of artillery, 
which secured his victory, in the hands of the 
insurgents. When the morning dawned, the 
Tuilleries, as if by magic, had assumed the 
aspect of a fortified camp. The little Corsican 
was silently and calmly awaiting the onset, as 
secure of triumph as if the victory were already 
achieved. 

But in every quarter of Paris, during the 
night, the insurgents had been mustering their 
forces, and the mutterings of the approaching 
storm were dismally echoed through the streets 
of the metropolis. Above thirty thousand 
men, all well armed with musketry, and artillery 
in regular military array, and under experienced 



THE RELEASE FKOM PRISOl?. 79 

generals, came pouring down upon the feeble 
band which surrounded the Convention. 

Will the little Oorsican dare to fire upon the 
people ? Will this pale and slender youth, who 
had hardly yet entered upon the period of man- 
hood, dare to deluge the pavements of Paris 
with the blood of her own citizens ? Will he 
venture upon a conflict so unequal, when fail- 
ure is his certain death ? 

Napoleon, with his colorless cheek, his flash- 
ing eye, and his air of mysterious melancholy, 
stood in silence, as the gathering thousands 
crowded down upon him. He offered no par- 
ley ; he uttered not a word of warning ; he con- 
descended to no threats. The insurgents, be- 
lieving that he would not dare to fire upon 
them, advanced within fifty yards of his masked 
battery, when he opened his columns, and, in 
the roar of artillery shotted to the muzzle, the 
voice of Napoleon was for the first time heard 
in the streets of Paris. The thunder of his 
tones was preceded by the lightning's bolt. The 
merciless storm of grape-shot, sweeping the 
streets, covered the ground with the dead and 
the dying. No mortal could withstand such a 
conflict. The advancing foe wavered for an in- 
stant, and then, in the utmost consternation, 
took to flight. Napoleon commanded immedi- 
ately the most rapid discharge of blank car- 
tridges. Peal upon peal, their loud reverbera- 



80 JOSEPHINE. 

tions deafened the city, and added wings to the 
flight of the terror-stricken crowd. But a few 
moments elapsed ere not even a straggler could 
be seen in the deserted streets. The little Cor- 
sican, pale and calm, stood, with folded arms, 
as unperturbed as if no event of any moment 
had occurred. During the whole day, however, 
the conflict continued in different parts of the 
city, but before nightfall the insurgents were 
everywhere entirely discomfited. 

Paris was now filled with the name of Na- 
poleon. Some regarded him as a saviour, pro- 
tecting the Convention ; others considered him 
a demon, deluging the capital with blood. 
One evening, Josephine was visiting at the 
house of a friend, and sitting by a window 
examining some beautiful violets, when 
Bonaparte was announced. Josephine had 
never yet met him, though, of course, she had 
heard much of one whose rising fame filled the 
metropolis. 

She says that she trembled violently at the 
announcement of his name. His entrance 
seemed to excite general interest, and all eyes 
were turned toward him, though most of the 
company regarded him in silence. He ap- 
proached Josephine, and the subject of the 
recent conflict in the streets of Paris was 
introduced. 

*'It seems to me," said Josephine, ^'that it 



THE RELEASE FROM PRISON. 81 

is only with regret that we should think of the 
eonste'rnation you have spread through the 
capital. It is a frightful service you have 
performed/' 

''It is very possible," he replied. ''The 
military are only automata, to which the govern- 
ment gives such motions as it pleases. They 
have no duty but to obey. Besides, I wished 
to teach the Parisians a little lesson. This is 
my seal tuhich I have set upon France." 

This he said in such calm, quiet, imperturb- 
able tones, so expressive of his perfect confi- 
dence in himself, and of his indifference to the 
opinions of others, that Josephine was quite 
piqued, and replied politely, but yet in a man- 
ner which indicated her displeasure. 

"These light skirmishes," the young general 
rejoined, "are but the first coruscations of my 
glory." ' 

" If you are to acquire glory at such a price," 
Josephine answered, "I would much rather 
count you among the victims." 
. -Such was the first interview between Jo- 
sephine and Napoleon. It was merely a casual 
meeting in an evening party between a widow, 
graceful and beautiful, and a young man of 
boundless ambition. Though Josephine was 
not pleased with Napoleon, he produced a very 
profound impression upon her mind. Napo- 
leon, being now in command of the troops in 



82 JOSEPHINE. 

Paris, by order of the Convention, executed the 
very unpopular office of disarming the populace. 
In the performance of this order, the sword of 
M. Beauharnais was taken. The next day, Eu- 
gene, who was then a boy twelve years of age, 
of exceedingly prepossessing appearance, pre- 
sented himself before Napoleon, and implored 
the return of the sword which had belonged to 
his father. Napoleon was deeply interested in 
the frankness and the fervor of emotion mani- 
fested by the lad, and immediately complied 
with his request. Josephine called upon him 
the next day to thank him for his kindness to 
her son. He was at this interview as deeply 
impressed by the fascinations of the motlier as 
he had previously been struck by the noble 
bearing of the child. After this they frequently 
met, and Josephine could not be blind to the 
interest with which she was regarded by. Napo- 
leon. Situated as he then was, it was social 
elevation to him to be united with Madame de 
Beauharnais, and her rank, and influence, and 
troops of friends would greatly aid him in his 
ambitious plans. It is also unquestionably true 
that Napoleon formed a very strong attach- 
ment for Josephine. Indeed, she was the only 
person whom he ever truly loved. That he did 
love her at times most passionately there can 
be no doubt. 
Josephine, however, had many m.ss:ivings 



THE RELEASE FROM PRISON. 83 

respecting the expediency of the union. She 
stated to her friends that he was the most fas- 
cinating man that she had ever met ; that she 
admired his courage, the quickness of his judg- 
ment, the extent of his information. She, 
however, confessed that she did not really love 
him — that she stood in awe of him. ''His 
searching glance," she says, "mysterious and 
inexplicable, imposes even upon our Directors 
— judge if it may not intimidate a woman." 

'' Being now past the heyday of youth," she 
writes in a letter to her friend, '' can I hope 
long to preserve that ardor of attachment which, 
in the general, resembles a fit of delirium ? If, 
after our union, he should cease to love me, 
will he not reproach me with what he will have 
sacrificed for my sake ? Will he not regret a 
more brilliant marriage which he might have 
contracted ? What shall I then reply ? What 
shall I do? I shall weep. Excellent resource ! 
you will say. Alas ! I know that all this can 
serve no end ; but it has ever been thus ; tears 
are the only resource left me when this poor 
heart, so easily chilled, has suffered. Write 
quickly, and do not fear to scold me, should 
you judge that I am wrong. You know that 
whatever comes from your pen will be taken in 
good part. 

" Barras gives assurance that if I marry the 
general, he will so contrive as to have him ap- 

/— Josephine 



^ 



34 JOSEPHINE. 

pointed to the command of the army of Italy. 
Yesterday, Bonaparte, speaking of this favor, 
which already excites murmuring among his 
fellow-soldiers, though it be as yet only a prom- 
ise, said to me, " Think they, then, I have 
need of their protection to arrive at power ? 
Egregious mistake ! They will all be but too 
happy one day should I grant them mine. My 
sword is by my side, and with it I will go far.'* 

'' What say you to this security of success ? 
Is it not a proof of confidence springing from 
an excess of vanity ? A general of brigade pro- 
tect the heads of government ! that, truly, is 
an event highly probable ! I know not how it 
is, but sometimes this waywardness gains upon 
me to such a degree that almost I believe pos- 
sible whatever this singular man may take it 
in his head to attempt ; and, with his imagina- 
tion, who can calculate what he will not un- 
dertake ? " 

It was now winter. The storm of Eevolu- 
tion had partially subsided. The times were, 
however, full of agitation and peril. Europe 
was in arms against France. There was no 
stable government and no respected laws. The 
ambitious young general consecrated his days 
with sleepless energy to his public duties, but 
each evening he devoted to Josephine. Napo- 
leon never manifested any taste for those dissi- 
pating pleasures which attract and ruin so 



THE RELEASE FROM PRISON. 85 

many young men. He had no moral princi- 
ples which pronounced such indulgences 
wrong, but the grandeur of his ambition ab- 
sorbed all his energies. He was, even at that 
time, a hard student. He was never more 
happy than when alone with Josephine, en- 
gaged in conversation or reading. His at- 
tachment for Josephine became very ardent 
and passionate. The female character at this 
time, in France, was far from high. Napoleon 
had but little respect for ladies in general. 
The circumstances of his life had led him to 
form a low estimate of the sex. He often said 
that all the rest of the sex were nothing com- 
pared with Josephine. He frequently gave 
public breakfasts to his friends, at which Jo- 
sephine universally presided, though other 
ladies were invited. 

In the pleasant mansion of Josephine, Napo- 
leon was in the habit of meeting a small circle 
of select friends, who were strongly attached 
to Josephine, and who were able, and for her 
sake were willing to promote his interests. 
Napoleon was a man of strong affections, but of 
stronger ambition. Josephine was entirely sat- 
isfied with the singleness and the ardor of his 
love. She sometimes trembled in view of its 
violence. She often remarked to her friends 
that he was incomparably the most fascinating 
man she had ever met. AU have equally are 



86 



JOSEPHINE. 



tested Napoleon's unrivaled powers of pleasing, 
whenever it suited his purpose to make the 
effort. The winter thus rapidly and pleas- 
antly passed away. 




Josephine's Salon. 




CHAPTER VI. 



JOSEPHINE IIT ITALY. 



On- the 9th of March, 1796, Josephine was 
married to Napoleon. The Revohition had 
swept away everything that was sacred in hu- 
man and divine institutions, and the attempt 
had been made to degrade marriage into a mere 
partnership, which any persons might con- 
tract or dissolve at pleasure. According to 
the Revolutionary form, Josephine and JN'apo- 
leon presented themselves before a magistrate, 
and simply announced their union. A few 
friends attended as witnesses of the ceremony. 

Napoleon had, in the mean time, been ap- 
pointed commander of the French forces in 
Italy. In twelve days after his nuptials, he 
left his bride and hastened to the army, then 
in the lowest state of poverty and suffering. 
The veteran generals, when they first saw the 
pale-faced youth who was placed over them all, 
were disposed to treat him with contempt. 
Hardly an hour elapsed after his arrival ere 
they felt and admitted that he was their 



,88 



JOSEPHINE. 



master. He seemed insensible to mental e]f- 
hanstion, or fatigue, or hunger, or want of 
sleep. He was upon horseback night and day. 
Almost supernatural activity was infused into 
the army. It fell like an avalanche upon the 
Austrians. In fifteen days after he took com- 
mand, he proclaimed to his exulting and vic- 
torious troops, 

" Soldiers ! you have gained in fifteen days 
six victories, taken one-and-twenty standards, 
fifty-five pieces of cannon, many strong places, 
and conquered the richest part of Piedmont ; 
you have made fifteen thousand prisoners, and 
killed or wounded ten thousand men." 

Paris was perfectly intoxicated with the an- 
nouncement, day after day, of these brilliant 
achievements. The name of Napoleon was 
upon every lip, and all France resounded with 
his praises. " This young commander," said 
one of the discomfited veteran generals of the 
Austrian army, '^ knows nothing whatever 
about the art of war. He is a perfect igno- 
ramus. He sets at defiance all the established 
rules of military tactics. There is no doing 
anything with him." 

Napoleon, after a series of terrible conflicts 
and most signal triumphs, drove the Austrians 
out of Italy, pursued them into their own coun- 
try and at Leoben, almost within sight of the 
steeples of Vienna, dictated a peace, which 



JOSEPHINE IN ITALY. 89 

crowned him, in the estimation of his country- 
men, with the highest glory. Josephine now 
Avent from Paris to Italy to meet her trium- 
phant husband. They took up their residence 
at the Castle of Montebello, a most delightful 
country seat in the vicinity of Milan. 

And here Josephine passed a few months of 
almost unalloyed happiness. The dark and 
tempestuous days through which she had re- 
cently been led, had prepared her to enjoy most 
exquisitely the calm which ensued. She had 
been in the deepest penury. She was now in 
the enjoyment of all that wealth could confer. 
She had been widowed and homeless. She was 
now the wife of a victorious general whose 
fame was reverberating through Europe, and 
her home combined almost every conceivable 
attraction. She had been a prisoner doomed 
to die, and her very jailer feared to speak to her 
in tones of kindness. Now she was caressed by 
nobles and princes ; all the splendors of a court 
surrounded her, and every heart did her homage. 
Josephine presided at all her receptions and en- 
tertainments with an elegance of manner so 
winning as perfectly to fascinate the Milanese. 

^'I conquer provinces,^' said T^apoleonof her 
at that time, ^' bu t Josephine wins hearts. " The 
vicinity of Montebello combines perhaps as much 
of the beautiful and the sublime in scenery as 
gan be found at any other spot on the surface 



90 JOSEPHINE. 

of the globe. Napoleon sympathized most cor- 
dially with Josephine in her appreciation of the 
beautiful and the romantic ; and though he 
devoted the energies of his mind^ with unsleep- 
ing diligence, to the ambitious plans which en- 
grossed him, he found time for many delightful 
excursions with his fascinating bride. There 
is not, perhaps, in Italy a more lovely drive than 
that from Milan, along the crystal waters of 
Lake Como to Lake Maggiore. This romantic 
lake, embosomed among the mountains, with its 
densely wooded islands and picturesque shores, 
was a favorite resort for excursions of pleasure. 
Here, in gay parties, they floated in boats, with 
well-trained rowers, and silken awnings, and 
streaming pennants and ravishing music. The 
island of Isola Bella, or Beautiful Island, with 
its arcades, its hanging gardens, and its palace 
of monkish gloom, was IS'apoleon's favorite land- 
ing-plar .. Here they often partook of refresh- 
ments, and ^gaged with all vivacity in rural 
festivities, jit is stated that, while enjoying one 
of these excursions, Josephine, with one or two 
other ladies, was standing under a beautiful 
orange-tree, loaded with fruit, with the atten- 
tion of the party all absorbed in admiring the 
beauties of the distant landscape. Napoleon, 
unperceived, crept up the tree, and by a sudden 
shake brought down quite a shower of the golden 
fruit upon the ladies. The companions of Jo- 



JOSEPHINE IN ITALY. 91 

sephine screamed with affright and ran from the 
tree. She, however, accustomed to such pleas- 
antries, suspected the source, and remained un- 
moved. " Why, Josephine ! '' exclaimed Napo- 
leon, '' you stand fire like one of my veterans/' 
" And why should I not ? " she promptly re- 
plied ; ''am I not the wife of their com- 
mander ? '' -^ 

Napoleon, during these scenes of apparent 
relaxation, had but one thought — ambition. 
His capacious mind was ever restless, ever ex- 
cited, not exactly with the desire of personal 
aggrandizement, but of mighty enterprise, of 
magnificent achievement. Josephine, with her 
boundless popularity and her arts of persuasion, 
though she often trembled in view of the limit- 
less aspirations of her husband, was extremely 
influential in winning to him the powerful 
friends by whom they were surrounded. 

The achievements which Napoleon accom- 
plished during the short Italian campaign are 
perhaps unparalleled in ancient or modern war- 
fare. 

With a number of men under his command 
ever inferior to the forces of the Austrians, he 
maneuvered always to secure, at any one point, 
an array superior to that of his antagonists. He 
cut up four several armies which were sent from 
Austria to oppose him, took one hundred and 
fifteen thousand prisoners, one hundred and sev- 



92 JOSEPHIlsrE. 

enty standards, eleven hundred and forty pieces 
of battering cannon and field artillery, and 
drove the Austrians from the frontiers of France 
to the walls of Vienna. He was everywhere 
hailed as the liberator of Italy ; and, encircled 
with the pomp and the power of a monarch, he 
received such adulations as monarchs rarely 
enjoy. 

The Directory in Paris began to tremble in 
view of the gigantic strides which this ambi- 
tious general was making. They surrounded 
him with spies to garner up his words, to watch 
his actions, and, if possible, to detect his plans. 
But the marble face of this incomprehensible 
youth told no secrets. Even to Josephine he 
revealed not his intentions ; and no mortal 
scrutiny could explore the thoughts fermenting 
in his deep and capacious mind. His personal 
appearance at this time is thus described by 
an observer of his triumphal entrance into 
Milan : 

'' I beheld with deep interest and extreme at- 
tention that extraordinary man who has per- 
formed such great deeds, and about whom there 
is something which seems to indicate that his 
career is not yet terminated. I found him very 
like his portrait, small in stature, thin, pale, 
with the air of fatigue, but not in ill health. 
He appeared to me to listen with more abstrac- 
tion than interest, as if occupied rather with 



JOSEPHINE IN ITALY. 93 

what he was thinking of than with what was 
said to him. There is great intelligence in hi-s 
countenance, along with an expression of habit- 
ual meditation, which reveals nothing of what 
is passing within. In that thinking head, in 
that daring mind, it is impossible not to sup- 
pose that some designs are engendering which 
shall have their influence upon the desti- 
nies of Europe. ^^ 

Napoleon was fully confident of the jealousy 
he had aroused, and of the vigilance with which 
he was watched. His caution often wounded 
Josephine, as he was as impenetrable to her in 
reference to all his political plans as to any one 
else. While she at times loved him almost to 
adoration, she ever felt in awe of the unexplored 
recesses of his mind. He appeared frequently 
lost in thought, and, perfectly regardless of the 
pomp and the pageantry with which he was 
surrounded, he gave unmistakable indications 
that he regarded the achievements he had al- 
ready accomplished as very trivial — merely the 
commencement of his career. She once re- 
marked to a friend, '^ During the many years 
we have now passed together, 1 never once be- 
held Bonaparte for a moment at ease — not even 
with myself. He is constantly on the alert. If 
at any time he appears to show a little confi- 
dence, it is merely a feint to throw the person 
with whom he is conversing off his guard, and 



94 JOSEPHINE. 

to draw forth his real sentiments, but neyer 
does he himself disclose his own thoughts/^ 

Napoleon now deemed it expedient to visit 
Paris ; for he despised the weakness and the in- 
efficiency of those who, amid the surges of the 
Revolution, had been elevated there to the su- 
preme power, and already he secretly contem- 
plated the overthrow of the government, as soon 
as an opportunity promising success should be 
presented. Josephine, with her children, re- 
mained in Milan, that she might continue to 
dazzle the eyes of the Milanese with the splen- 
dor of the establishment of the Liberator of 
Italy, and that she might watch over the inter- 
ests of her illustrious spouse. 

She gave splendid entertainments. Her sa- 
loons were ever thronged with courtiers, and 
the inimitable grace she possessed enabled her, 
with ease and self -enjoyment, to preside with 
queenly dignity over every scene of gaiety. 
She was often weary of this incessant grandeur 
and display, but the wishes of her husband and 
her peculiar position seemed to afford her 
no choice. Napoleon unquestionably loved 
Josephine as ardently as he was capable of lov- 
ing any one. He kept up a constant, almost 
daily correspondence with her. Near the close 
of his life, he declared that he was indebted to 
her for every moment of happiness he had known 
Q^ earth, AmbitiQii y^SiS, however, v/ith Napo- 



JOSEPHINE IN ITALY. 95 

leon a far more powerful passion than love. He 
was fully conscious that he needed the assistance 
of his most accomplished wife to raise him to 
that elevation he was resolved to attain. Self- 
reliant as he was, regardless as he ever appeared 
to be of the opinions or the advice of others, 
the counsel of Josephine had more influence 
over him than perhaps that of all other persons 
combined. Her expostulations not unfre- 
quently modified his plans, though his high 
spirit could not brook the acknowledgment. 
Hortense and Eugene were with Josephine at 
Milan. Eugene, though but seventeen years of 
age, had joined Napoleon in the field as one of 
his aids, and had signalized himself by many 
acts of bravery. 

In this arrangement we see an indication of 
the plans of boundless ambition which were al- 
ready maturing in the mind of Bonaparte. The 
Italians hated their proud and domineering 
masters, the Austrians. They almost adored 
Napoleon as their d eliverer. He had established 
the Cisalpine Republic, and conferred upon 
them a degree of liberty which for ages they 
had not enjoyed. Napoleon had but to unfurl 
his banner, and the Italians, in countless 
thousands, were ready to rally around it. The 
army in Italy regarded the Little Corporal with 
sentiments of veneration and affection, for 
which we may search history in vain for a 



96 JOSEPHINE. 

parallel. Italy consequently became the base 
of Napoleon's operations. There he was 
strongly intrenched. In case of failure in any 
of his operations in Paris, he could retire be- 
hind the Alps, and bid defiance to his foes. 

Josephine was exactly the partner he needed 
to protect these all-important interests during 
his absence. Her strong and active intelligence, 
her sincerity, her unrivaled powers of fascinat- 
ing all who approached her, and her entire de- 
votion to Napoleon, rendered her an ally of ex- 
ceeding efficiency. Powerful as was the arm 
of Napoleon, he never could have risen to the 
greatness he attained without the aid of Jo- 
sephine. She, at Milan, kept up the splendor 
of a royal court. The pleasure-loving Italians 
ever thronged her saloons. The most illustri- 
ous nobles were emulous to win her favor, that 
they might obtain eminence in the service of 
her renowned spouse. At the fetes and enter- 
tainments she gave to the rejoicing Milanese, 
she obtained access to almost every mind it was 
desirable to influence. No one could approach 
Josephine without becoming her friend, and a 
friend once gained was never lost. A weak 
woman, under these circumstances, which so 
severely tested the character, would have been 
often extremely embarrassed, and would have 
made many mistakes. It was remarkable in 
Josephine, that, notwithstanding the seclusion 



JOSEPHINE IN ITALY. 97 

of her childhood and early youth, she ever ap- 
peared self-possessed, graceful, and at home 
in every situation in which she was placed. She 
moved through the dazzling scenes of her court 
at Milan, scenes of unaccustomed brilliance 
which had so suddenly burst upon her, with an 
air as entirely natural and unembarrassed as if 
her whole life had been passed in the saloons 
of monarchs. She conversed with the most 
distinguished generals of armies, with nobles of 
the highest rank, with statesmen and scholars 
of wide-spread renown, with a fluency, an ap- 
propriateness, and an inimitable tact which 
would seem to indicate that she had been 
cradled in the lap of princes, and nurtured in the 
society of courts. It seemed never to be neces- 
sary for her to study the rules of etiquette. She 
was never accustomed to look to others to as- 
certain what conduct was proper under any cir- 
cumstances. Instinctive delicacy was her un- 
erring teacher, and from her bearing others 
compiled their code of politeness. She became 
the queen of etiquette, not the subject. 

Thus, while Napoleon, in Paris, was cau- 
tiously scrutinizing the state of public affairs, 
and endeavoring to gain a position there, Jo- 
sephine, with the entire concentration of all her 
energies to his interests, was gaining for him 
in Milan vast accessions of power. She had no 
conception, indeed, of the greatness he was des- 
7 



98 JOSEPHINE. 

tined to attain. But she loved her husband. 
She was proud of his rising renown, and it was 
her sole ambition to increase, in every way in 
her power, the luster of his name. Aristocracy 
circled around her in delighted homage, while 
poverty, charmed by her sympathy and her be- 
neficence, ever greeted her with acclamations. 
The exploits of Napoleon dazzled the world, and 
the unthinking world has attributed his great- 
ness to his own unaided arm. But the gentle- 
ness of Josephine was one of the essential ele- 
ments in the promotion of his greatness. In 
co-operation with her, he rose. As soon as he 
abandoned her, he fell. 

Josephine soon rejoined her husband in Pa- 
ris, where she very essentially aided, by her fas- 
cinating powers of persuasion, in disarming the 
hostility of those who were jealous of his rising 
fame, and in attaching to him such adherents 
as could promote his interests. In the saloons 
of Josephine, many of the most heroic youths 
of France were led to ally their fortunes with 
those of the young general, whose fame had so 
suddenly burst upon the world. She had the 
rare faculty of diffusing animation and cheer- 
fulness wherever she appeared. ^^ It is," she 
once beautifully remarked, " a necessity of my 
heart to love others, and to be loved by them 
in return." '' There is only one occasion," she 
again said, '' in which I would voluntarily use 



JOSEPHINE IN ITALY. 99 

the words / ivill, namely, when I would say, 
' I will that all around me be happy/ " 

Napoleon singularly displayed his knowledge 
of human nature in the course he pursued upon 
his return to Paris. He assumed none of the 
pride of a conqueror. He studiously avoided 
every thing like ostentatious display. Day 
after day his lieutenants arrived, bringing the 
standards taken from the Austrians. Pictures, 
and statues, and other works of art extorted 
from the conquered, were daily making their 
appearance, keeping the metropolis in a state 
of the most intense excitement. The Parisians 
were never weary of reading and re-reading 
those extraordinary proclamations of Napoleon, 
which, in such glowing language, described his 
almost miraculous victories. The enthusiasm 
of the people was thus raised to the highest 
pitch. The anxiety of the public to see this 
young and mysterious victor was intense be- 
yond description. But he knew enough of the 
human heart to be conscious that, by avoiding 
the gratification of these wishes, he did but en- 
hance their intensity. Modestly retiring to an 
unostentatious mansion in the Kue Chante- 
reine, which, in compliment to him, had re- 
ceived the name of Rue de la Victoire, he 
secluded himself from the public gaze. He de- 
voted his time most assiduously to study, and 
to conversation with learned men. He laid 

8 — Josephine 

L«rc. 



100 JOSEPHINE. 

aside his military garb, and assumed the plain 
dress of a member of the Institute. When he 
walked the streets, he was seldom recognized 
by the people. Though his society was courted 
in the highest circles of Paris, his ambition was 
too lofty to be gratified with shining among 
the stars of fashion. Though he had as yet 
reached but the twenty-sixth year of his age, he 
had already gained the reputation of being the 
first of generals. He was emulous not only of 
appearing to be, but also of actually being, an 
accomplished scholar. '^ I well knew,^' said he, 
^' that the lowest drummer in the army would 
respect me more for being a scholar as well as a 
soldier.^' 

Napoleon might have enriched himself be- 
yond all bounds in his Italian campaign had he 
been disposed to do so. Josephine, at times, 
remonstrated against his personal habits of 
economy, while he was conferring millions 
added to millions upon France. But the am- 
bition of her husband, inordinate as it was, 
was as sublime an ambition as any one could 
feel in view of merely worldly interests. He 
wished to acquire the renown of benefiting 
mankind by the performance of the noblest 
exploits. His ultimate end was his own fame. 
But he knew that the durability of that fame 
could only be secured by the accomplishment 
of noble ends* 



JOSEPHINE IN ITALY. 101 

The effeminate figure of Napoleon in these 
early days had caused the soldiers to blend 
with their amazed admiration of his military 
genius a kind of fondness of affection for 
which no parallel can be found in ancient or 
modern story. The soldiers were ever rehears- 
ing to one another, by their night-fires and in 
their long marches, anecdotes of his perfect 
fearlessness, his brilliant sayings, his imperious 
bearing, by which he overawed the haughtiness 
of aristocratic power, and his magnanimous 
acts toward the poor and the lowly. 

One night, when the army in Italy was in 
great peril, worn out with the fatigue of sleep- 
lessness and of battle, and surrounded by Aus- 
trians, Napoleon was taking the round of his 
posts in disguise, to ascertain the vigilance of 
his sentinels. He found one poor soldier, in 
perfect exhaustion, asleep at his post. Napo- 
leon shouldered his musket, and stood sentry 
for him for half an hour. When the man 
awoke and recognized the countenance of his 
general, he sank back upon the ground in ter- 
ror and despair. He knew that death was the 
doom for such a crime. ''Here, comrade,'' 
said Napoleon, kindly, " here is your musket. 
You have fought hard and marched long, and 
your sleep is excusable. But a moment's inat- 
tention might at present ruin the army. I hap- 
pened to be awake, and have guarded your 



102 JOSEPHINE. 

post for you. You will be more careful another 
time.'' 

At the ^^ terrible passage of the bridge of 
Lodi," Napoleon stood at one of the guns, in 
the very hottest of the fire, directing it with 
his own hand. The soldiers, delighted at this 
very unusual exhibition of the readiness of 
their general to share all the toils and perils of 
the humblest private in the ranks, gave him 
the honorary and affectionate nickname of 
^' The Little Corporal.'* By this appellation 
he was afterward universally known in the 
army. The enthusiasm of the soldiers invested 
him with supernatural endowments, and every 
one was ready at any moment to peril life for 
the Little Corporal. 

The government at Paris, rapidly waning 
in popularity, notwithstanding their extreme 
jealousy of the wide-spreading influence of this / 
victorious general, was compelled, by the spon- 
taneous acclamations of the people, to give him 
a public triumph, when the famous treaty 
which Napoleon had effected in Italy was to be 
formally presented to the Directory. The mag- 
nificent court of the Luxembourg was embel- 
lished with the flags of the armies which he 
had conquered, and the youthful hero of Lodi, 
of Areola, and of Eivoli made his first tri- 
umphant appearance i-n the streets of Paris. 
The enthusiasm of the vast concourse of ex- 



JOSEPHINE m ITALY. lOB 

citable Parisians overleaped all bounds. The 
soldiers of the proud army of Italy sang at their 
encampments, in enthusiastic chorus, a song 
in which they declared that it was high time 
to eject the lawyers from the government, and 
make the Little Corporal the ruler of France. 
Barras, the friend of Josephine, who had se- 
lected Napoleon to quell the insurrection in 
Paris, and who had secured to him the com- 
mand of the army of Italy, declared in a eulo- 
gistic speech on this occasion that ''Nature 
had exhausted all her powers in the creation of 
a Bonaparte.^' This sentiment was received 
with the most deafening peals of applause. 

But how like the phantasmagoria of magic 
has this change burst upon the bewildered Jo- 
sephine. But a few months before, her hus- 
band, wan and wasted with imprisonment and 
woe, had been led from the subterranean dun- 
geons of this very palace, with the execrations 
of the populace torturing his ear, to bleed 
upon the scaffold. She, also, was then herself 
a prisoner, without even a pillow for her weary 
head, awaiting the dawn of the morning which 
was to conduct her steps to a frightful death. 
Her children, Hortense and Eugene, had been 
rescued from homelessness, friendlessness, and 
beggary only by the hand of charity, and were 
dependent upon that charity for shelter and 
for daily bread. Now the weeds of widowhood 



104 JOSEPHINE. 

have given place to the robes of the rejoicing 
bride, and that palace is gorgeously decorated 
in honor of the world-renowned companion 
upon whose arm she proudly leans. The accla- 
mations resounding to his praise reverberate 
over mountain and valley, through every city 
and village of France. Princes, ambassadors, 
and courtiers, obsequiously crowd the saloons 
of Josephine. Eugene, an officer in the army, 
high in rank and honor, is lured along life's 
perilous pathway by the most brilliant pros- 
pects. Hortense, in dazzling beauty, and sur- 
rounded by admirers, is intoxicated with the 
splendor, which, like Oriental enchantment, 
has burst upon her view. 

Josephine, so beautifully called '' the Star of 
Napoleon,'" was more than the harbinger of his 
rising. She gave additional luster to his bril- 
liance, and was as the gentle zephyr, which 
sweeps away the mists and vapors, and pre- 
sents a transparent sky through which the 
undimmed luminary may shine. Her persua- 
sive influence was unweariedly and most 
successfully exerted in winning friends and in 
disarming adversaries. The admiration which 
was excited for the stern warrior in his solitary, 
silent, unapproachable grandeur, whose gar- 
ments had been dyed in blood, whose fearful 
path had been signalized by conflagrations, and 
shrieks, and the wailings of the dying, was 



JOSEPHINE IN ITALY. 106 

hnmanized and softened by the gentle loveliness 
of his companion, who was ever a ministering 
angel, breathing words of kindness, and diffus- 
ing around her the spirit of harmony and love. 
Napoleon ever freely acknowledged his indebt- 
edness to Josephine for her aid in these morn- 
ing hours of his greatness. 

But unalloyed happiness is never allotted to 
mortals. Josephine^s very loveliness of person 
and of character was to her the occasion of 
many hours of heaviness. No one could be in- 
sensible to the power of her attractions. The 
music of her voice, the sweetness of her smile, 
the grace of her manners, excited so much ad- 
miration, invested her with a popularity so 
universal and enthusiastic, that Napoleon was, 
at times, not a little disturbed by Jealousy. 
Her appearance was ever the signal for crowds 
to gather around her. The most distinguished 
and the most gallant men in France vied with 
each other in doing her homage. Some of the 
relatives of Napoleon, envious of the influence 
she exerted over her illustrious spouse, and 
anxious, by undermining her power, to subserve 
their own interests, were untiring in their en- 
deavors to foster all these jealousies. Josephine 
was exceedingly pained by the occasional indi- 
cations of her husband's distrust. A word 
from his lips, a glance from his eye, often sent 
her to her chamber with weeping eyes and an 



106 JOSEPHINE. 

aching heart. An interview with her husband, 
however, invariably removed his suspicions, and 
he gave her renewed assurances of his confi- 
dence and his love. 

The plans of Napoleon in reference to his 
future operations were still in a state of great 
uncertainty. His restless spirit could not brook 
inactivity. He saw clearly that the time had 
not yet come in which he could, with the pros- 
pect of success, undertake to overthrow the 
Eevolutionary government and grasp the reins 
of power himself. To use his own expressive 
language, '^The pear was not yet ripe." To 
one of his intimate friends he remarked, " They 
do not long preserve at Paris the remembrance 
of anything. If I remain any length of time 
unemployed, I am undone. The renown of 
one, in this great Babylon, speedily supplants 
that of another. If I am seen three times at 
the opera, I shall no longer be an object of 
curiosity. Yoa need not talk of the desire of 
the citizens to see me. Crowds, at least as 
great, would go to see me led out to the scaffold. 
I am determined not to remain in Paris. 
There is nothing here to be done. Everything 
here passes away. My glory is already declin- 
ing. This little corner of Europe is too small 
to supply it. We must go to the East. All 
the great men of the world have there acquired 
their celebrity. We will go to Egypt/^ 



JOSEPHINE IN ITALY. 



107 



Such was the grandeur of the dreams of a 
young man who had not yet passed his twenty- 
sixth year. And these were not the musings of 
a wild and visionary brain, but the deeply laid 




and cautiously guarded plans of a mind which 
had meditated profoundly upon all probable 
emergencies, and which had carefully weighed 
all the means which could be furnished for the 
accomplishment of an enterprise so arduous and 
so majestic. 




CHAPTER VIL 



JOSEPHINE AT MALMAISON". 



The Directory in Paris became daily more 
and more alarmed, in view of the vast and ever- 
increasing popularity of the conqueror of Italy. 
A plan had been formed for the invasion of 
England, and this was deemed a good oppor- 
tunity for sending from France their dangerous 
rival, Napoleon was appointed commander-in- 
chief of the army of England. He visited the 
coast, and devoted ten days and nights, with 
his extraordinary rapidity of apprehension, in 
investigating the prospects of success. He re- 
turned to Paris, saying, " It is too doubtful a 
chance. I will not hazard on such a throw the 
fate of France." All his energies were then 
turned to his Egyptian expedition. He hoped 
to gain reputation and power in Egypt, pass 
through into India, raise an army of natives, 
headed by European officers, and energized by 
an infusion of European soldiers, and thus drive 
the English out of India. It was a bold plan. 
The very grandeur of the enterprise roused the 
108 



JOSEPHINE AT MALMAISON. 109 

euthusiasm of France. The Directory, secretly 
rejoicing at the prospect of sending Napoleon 
so far away, and hoping that he would perish 
on the sands of Africa, without much reluc- 
tance agreed to his proposal. 

Napoleon never loved the Kevolution, and he 
most thoroughly detested the infamous and 
sanguinary despotism which had risen upon the 
ruins of the altar and the throne. He chanced 
to be in Paris when the drunken and ragged 
mob, like an inundation, broke into the Tuille- 
ries, and heaped upon the humiliated Louis 
XVI. and Maria Antoinette the most infamous 
outrages. He saw the monarch standing at the 
window of his palace, with the dirty red cap 
of Jacobinism thrust upon that brow which 
had worn the crown of Charlemagne. At the 
sight, the blood boiled in the veins of the youth- 
ful Napoleon. He could not endure the spec- 
tacle. Turning upon his heel, he indignantly 
exclaimed, " The wretches ! had they mown 
down four or five hundred with grape-shot, the 
rest would speedily have taken to flight." 

He often expressed his dislike of the violent 
revolutionary course which the Directory were 
pursuing, and stated freely to his friends, '^ For 
my part, I declare, that if I had only the option 
between royalty and the system of these gentle- 
men, I would not hesitate for one moment to 
declare for a king,"' Just before Napoleon em- 



110 JOSEPHINE. 

barked for the East^ Bourrienne asked him if 
he was really determined to risk his fate on the 
perilous expedition to Egypt. ** Yes ! " he 
replied ** If I should remain here, it would 
be necessary to overturn this miserable govern- 
ment, and make myself king. But we must not 
think of that yet. The nobles will not consent 
to it. I have sounded, but 1 find the time for 
that has not yet arrived. I must first dazzle 
these gentlemen by my exploits.'^ 

On the morning of the 19th of May, 1798, 
the fleet set sail from the harbor of Toulon. 
It was a morning of surpassing loveliness, and 
seldom, if ever, has the unclouded sun shone 
upon a more brilliant scene. The magnificent 
armament extended over a semicircle of not less 
than eighteen miles. The fleet consisted of 
thirteen ships of the line, fourteen frigates, and 
four hundred transports. They carried forty 
thousand picked soldiers, and officers of the 
highest celebrity. For the first time in the 
world, a corps of scientific gentlemen was 
attached to a military expedition. One hun- 
dred eminent artists and connoisseurs Napoleon 
had collected to gather the antiquarian treasures 
of Egypt, and to extend the boundaries of 
science by the observation of the phenomena 
of nature. They formed a part of the staff of 
the invading army. 

Josephine accompanied her husband to 



JOSEPHIKE AT MALMAISON. Ill 

Tonlon, and remained with him tintil his em- 
barkation. She was extremely anxious to go 
with him to Egypt, and with tears plead that 
he would allow her to share his hardships and 
his perils. Napoleon, however, deemed the 
hazards to which they would be exposed, and 
the fatigues and sufferings they must necessarily 
endure, as quite too formidable for Josephine 
to encounter. But in the anguish of their 
parting, which is described as most tender, 
she wrung from him a promise to allow her to 
follow as soon as affairs in the East should 
render it prudent for her to do so. It can hard- 
ly be possible, however, that Napoleon ever ex- 
pected to see her in Egypt. He himself has 
thus described the objects he had in view in 
this vast enterprise : ^' 1. To establish on the 
banks of the Nile a French colony, which could 
exist without slaves, and supply the place of 
Saint Domingo. 2. To open a market for the 
manufactures of France in Africa, Arabia, and 
Syria, and to obtain for the productions of his 
countrymen the productions of those countries. 
3. To set out from Egypt, with an army of 
sixty thousand men, for the Indus, rouse the 
Mahrattas to a revolt, and excite against the 
English the population of those vast countries. 
Sixty thousand men, half Europeans, half 
natives, transported on fifty thousand camels 
and ten thousand horses, carrying with them 



112 JOSEPHINE. 

provisions for fifty days, water for six, with one 
hundred and fifty pieces of cannon and double 
ammunition, would arrive in four months in 
India. The ocean ceased to be an obstacle 
when vessels were constructed. The desert 
becomes passable the moment you have camels 
and dromedaries in abundance." 

As the fleet got under way, Josephine stood 
upon a balcony, with tearful eyes, gazing upon 
the scene, so imposing, and yet so sorrowful to 
her. The Orient, a ship of enormous magni- 
tude, contained her husband and her son. They 
were going into the midst of dangers from 
whence it was doubtful whether they would 
ever return. She fixed her eyes upon the ship 
as its lessening sails grew fainter and fainter in 
the distance, until the hardly discernible speck 
disappeared beneath the horizon, which the 
blue waves of the Mediterranean outlined. She 
retired to her room with those feelings of loneli- 
ness and desolation which the circumstances 
were so peculiarly calculated to inspire. 

It was arranged that Josephine should take 
up her residence, until Napoleon should send 
for her, at Plombieres, a celebrated watering- 
place, whose medicinal springs were supposed 
to be very efficacious in restoring maternity. 
She sent for Hortense, at that time fifteen years 
of age, and who was then in the boarding-school 
of the distinguished Madame Campan. Jo- 



JOSEPHINE AT MALMAISON. 118 

sephine wished for her daughter to be her com- 
panion during the weary hours of her absence 
from her husband. She was expecting that, as 
soon as a landing should be effected in Egypt, 
a frigate would be despatched to convey her to 
the banks of the Nile. She found solace during 
the lingering weeks of expectation in devoting 
herself to the instruction of her daughter. 
Her comprehensive and excellent views on the 
subject of education are developed in a letter 
which she at this time wrote to Madame Cam- 
pan, to accompany a niece who was to return 
to her school : 

" My dear Madame Campan, — With my 
niece, whom I return to your charge, receive 
also my thanks and my reproof. The former 
are due for the great care and brilliant educa- 
tion which you have bestowed upon the child ; 
the latter, for the faults which your sagacity 
must have discovered, but which your indul- 
gence has tolerated. The girl is gentle, but 
shy ; well informed, but haughty ; talented, but 
thoughtless. She does not please, and takes no 
pains to render herself agreeable. She con- 
ceives that the reputation of her uncle and the 
bravery of her father are everything. Teach 
her, and that by the most effectual means, how 
absolutely unavailing are those qualities which 
are not personal. We live in an age where 



114 JOSEPHINE. 

each is the author of his own fortnnes ; and if 
those who serve the state in the first ranks 
ought to have some advantages and enjoy some 
privileges, they should, on that account, strive 
only to render themselves more beloved and 
more useful. It is solely by acting thus that 
they can have some chance of excusing their 
good fortune in the eyes of envy. Of these 
things, my dear Madame Campan, you must 
not allow my niece to remain ignorant ; and 
such are the instructions which, in my name, 
you should repeat to her constantly. It is my 
pleasure that she treat as equals every one of her 
companions, most of whom are better or as good 
as herself, their only inferiority consisting in 
not having relations so able or so fortunate.'' 

Notwithstanding Napoleon's strong disincli- 
nation to have Josephine join him in Egypt, 
and though in every letter he strongly urged 
her to relinquish the plan, she was so importu- 
nate in her solicitations that he sent the Po- 
mona frigate to convey her across the Mediter- 
ranean. She was prevented from embarking by 
an accident, which she must have deemed a very 
serious calamity, but which probably saved her 
from years of captivity. She was one morning 
sitting in her saloon, busy with her needle, and 
conversing with several ladies who were her 
companions and intimate friends, when a lady 
who was standing in the balcony called the at- 



JOSEPHINE AT MALMAISON. 115 

tention of the party to a very beautiful dog 
which was passing in the street. All the ladies 
rushed upon the balcony, when, with a fearful 
crash, it broke down, and precipitated them 
upon the pavement. Though no lives were lost, 
several of the party were dreadfully injured. 
Josephine was so severely bruised as to be ut- 
terly helpless, and for some time she was fed 
like an infant. It was several months before 
she was sufficiently recovered to be able to leave 
her house. This grievous disappointment, how- 
ever, probably saved her from another, which 
would have been far more severely felt. The 
frigate in which she was to have embarked, had 
it not been for this accident, was captured by 
one of the English cruisers and taken to Lon- 
don. 

Napoleon went to Egypt because he thought 
it the shortest route to the vacant throne of the 
Bourbons. He despised the rulers who were 
degrading France, and placing a stigma upon 
popular liberty by their ignorance and their 
violence, and he resolved upon their overthrow. 
Consequently, while guiding the movements of 
his army upon the banks of the Nile, his atten- 
tion was continually directed to Paris. He 
wrote to Josephine that he intended ere long to 
return, and directed her to purchase a pleasant 
country seat somewhere in the vicinity of Paris. 

About ten miles from the metropolis and five 



116 JOSEPHINE, 

miles from Versailles there was a beautiful 
chateau, most charmingly situated, called Mal- 
maison. This estate Josephine purchased, 
greatly enlarging the grounds, at an expense of 
about one hundred thousand dollars. This 
lovely retreat possessed unfailing rural attrac- 
tion for a mind formed, like that of Josephine, 
for the rich appreciation of all that is lovely in 
the aspects of nature. Napoleon was delighted 
with the purchase, and expended subsequently 
incredible sums in repairs and enlargements, 
and in embellishments of statues, paintings, 
and furniture. This was ever the favorite resi- 
dence of Napoleon and Josephine. 

As the leaves of autumn began to fall, Joseph- 
ine, who had been slowly recovering from the 
effects of the accident, left Plombieres and took 
up her residence at Malmaison. Napoleon was 
absent in Egypt about eighteen months. Dur- 
ing the winter and the ensuing summer, Jo- 
sephine remained with Hortense, and several 
other ladies, who composed her most agreeable 
household, in this beautiful retreat. The celeb- 
rity of Napoleon surrounded them with friends, 
and that elegant mansion was the resort of the 
most illustrious in rank and intellect. Napo- 
leon, who had ever a spice of jealousy in his 
nature, had everything reported to him which 
occurred at Malmaison. He was informed re- 
specting all the guests who visited the chateau. 



JOSEPHIlSrE AT MALMAISON. Ill 

and of the conversation which passed in every 
interview. 

Hortense was a lively girl of fifteen, and the 
time hung heavily upon her hands. She 
amused herself in playing all manner of pranks 
upon a very singular valet de chambre, by the 
name of Carrat, whom her mother had brought 
from Italy. This man was very timid and ec- 
centric, but, with most enthusiastic devotion, 
attached to the service of Josephine. 

One evening Carrat received orders to attend 
Madame Bonaparte and several ladies who were 
with her in their twilight walk through the mag- 
nificent park belonging to the estate. Carrat, 
ever delighted with an opportunity to dis- 
play his attachment to his kind mistress, obeyed 
with great alacrity. No ladies in peril could 
desire a more valiant knight-errant than the 
vaunting little Italian assumed to be. They 
had not advanced far into the somber shadows 
of the grove when they saw, solemnly emerging 
from the obscurity, a tall specter in its winding- 
sheet. The fearful apparition approached the 
party, when the valet, terrified beyond all power 
of self-control, and uttering the most fearful 
shrieks, abandoned the ladies to the tender 
mercies of the ghost, and fled. The phantom, 
with its white drapery fluttering in the wind, 
pursued him. Soon the steps of the affrighted 
valet began to falter, and he dropped upon the 



118 JOSEPHIJiTfi. 

ground, insensible, in a fit. Hortense, who had 
been perfectly convulsed with laughter in view 
of the triumphant success of her experiment, 
was now correspondingly alarmed. The ghost 
was a fellow-servant of Carrat, who had been 
dressed out under the superintendence of the 
mischievous Hortense. 

As the poor man recovered without any 
serious injury and without the slightest diminu- 
tion of his excessive vanity, the fun-loving Hor- 
tense could not repress her propensity still to 
make him the butt of her practical jokes. It 
was a defect in her character that she could find 
pleasure in this mischievous kind of torment. 
It is not improbable that this trait of character, 
which appears so excusable in a mirthful girl 
of fifteen, was the cause of that incessant train 
of sorrows, which subsequently embittered her 
whole life. Carrat was perfectly devoted to 
Josephine ; Hortense was his torment. 

The unlucky valet occupied a sleeping-room 
separated from another only by a thin deal par- 
tition. A hole was made through this, and a 
pail of water so suspended in equilibrium over 
the pillow of the victim, that by drawing a cord 
the whole contents would be emptied upon his 
head. The supports of the bedstead had also 
been removed, so that the whole fabric would 
fall as soon as any weight was placed upon it, 
Carrat, among his other eccentricities, was ever 



JOSEPHINE AT MALMAISON. 119 

in the habit of going to bed without a light. 
Matters being thus prepared, Hortense, who 
had employed an attendant to aid her in her 
plans, stood in an adjoining room to enjoy the 
catastrophe. 

The poor man entered his room, and threw 
himself upon his pallet. Down it came with a 
crash, and his shriek of fright was for a mo- 
ment drowned in the inundation of water. 
Hortense, knowing the almost delirious fear 
which the puerile valet had of reptiles, cried, 
" Poor man ! poor man ! what will he do. 
The water was full of toads.'' Carrat, in utter 
darkness, drenched with cold water, and over- 
whelmed in the ruins of his bed and bedding, 
shrieked, ^^ Murder I help ! fire ! drowning ! " 
while Hortense and her accomplices enjoyed his 
ludicrous terror. She afterward made him a 
handsome present as a compensation. Hor- 
tense was not a malicious girl, but, like many 
others who are mirthful and thoughtless, she 
found a strange pleasure in teasing. Joseph- 
ine's only happiness was in making others 
happy. ''It is a necessity of my heart,'' she 
said, " to love those around me, and to be loved 
by them in return." How much more noble 
such a spirit ! 

Though Josephine was not fully informed re- 
specting the ultimate designs of Napoleon, and 
though Napoleon at this time probably had no 



120 JOSEPHINE. 

very definite plans respecting his future actions, 
his interests manifestly required that she should 
exert all her powers to strengthen the ties of 
those who were already his friends, and to gain 
others to his rising name. Josephine acquired 
great influence over many members of the Di- 
rectory, and this influence she was continually 
exerting for the relief of those who were in dis- 
tress. Many of the proscribed emigrants were 
indebted to her for liberty and the restoration 
of their forfeited estates. The following letter 
from Josephine to an emigrant, whose fortune, 
and perhaps life, she had saved, exhibits her in- 
tellectual elevation as well as the amiability of 
her heart. 

'^ Sir, — Your petition, which reached Mal- 
maison on the 12th, was presented the same 
evening, and by myself, to Citizen Barras. I 
have the pleasure to announce to you that the 
decision is favorable, and that now, erased from 
the fatal list, you are restored to all the rights 
of a French citizen. But in transmitting a 
communication not less agreeable to me than to 
yourself, permit me to enhance its value by re- 
peating to you the exact words with which it 
was accompanied by the Director. 'I have 
usually little to deny you, madame,' said he, 
presenting me with a sealed inclosur^ contain- 
ing the act of restoration, ^ and certainly, when 
humanity is concerned, I can have far less ob- 



JOSEPHINE AT MALMAISON. 121 

jection. But pity for misfortune does not ex- 
clude justice, and justice is inseparable from 
the love of truth. As unfortunate, M. de San- 
sal merits commiseration. As an emigrant, he 
has right to none. I will say more ; had I been 
disposed to be severe, there existed a cause for 
stern reprisals on the part of a government to 
whose kindness he replies by insults. Although 
I despise those of such a man, I appreciate them. 
They prove an ungrateful heart and a narrow 
mind. Let him be careful about expressing 
his hatred. All my colleagues are not equally 
indulgent.' 

" Blame only yourself, sir, for the small 
share of amenity in these counsels. They are 
harsh, perhaps, but useful ; and you will do 
well to render them effective. Regard, also, 
the faithfulness with which I transcribe them 
as a proof of the deep interest I take in your 
welfare, and of my anxiety that the interference 
of your friends may be justified by your future 
conduct. '' 

For some time a very constant correspondence 
was kept up between Napoleon and Josephine, 
but after the destruction of the French fleet by 
Lord Nelson in the Bay of Aboukir, and when 
the Mediterranean had become completely 
blocked up by English cruisers, almost every 
letter was intercepted. 

For political purposes, there were many who 



122 JOSEPHINE. 

wished to destroy the influence which Josephine 
had acquired over the mind of her ilkistrious 
husband. In the accomplishment of this plan, 
they endeavored, in every way in their power, 
to excite the jealousy of Napoleon. The very 
efforts which Josephine was making to attract 
the most influential men in Paris to her saloon 
were represented to him as indications of levity 
of character, and of a spirit of unpardonable 
coquetry. The enemies of Josephine had their 
influential agents in the camp of Napoleon, and 
with malice, never weary, they whispered this 
suspicion into his ear. The jealousy of his impas- 
sioned nature was strongly aroused. In his in- 
dignation, he wrote to Josephine in terms of 
great severity, accusing her of '^ playing the 
coquette with all the world." She was very 
deeply wounded by these unjust suspicions, 
and wrote to him a letter in reply, which, 
for tenderness and delicacy of sentiment, 
and the expression of conscious innocence, 
is hardly surpassed by anything which has 
ever been written. Her letter was intercepted, 
and Napoleon never saw it. For many months 
nearly all communication with the army of 
Egypt was cut off by the vigilance of the 
English. There were flying reports ever reach- 
ing the ear of Josephine of disaster to the 
army, and even of the death of Napoleon. 
Josephine was at times in great distress. 



JOSEPHINE AT MALMAISON. 123 

She knew not the fate of her husband or 
her son. She knew that, by the grossest de- 
ception, her husband's confidence in her had 
been greatly impaired, and she feared that, 
should he return, she might never be able to 
regain his affections. Still, she devoted herself 
with unwearied diligence in watching over all 
his interests, and though her heart was often 
oppressed with anguish, she did everything 
in her power to retain the aspect of cheerful- 
ness and of sanguine hope. One of her favorite 
amusements — the favorite amusement of almost 
every refined mind — was found in the cultiva- 
tion of flowers. She passed a portion of every 
pleasant day with Hortense among^ the flower- 
beds, with the hoe, and the watering-pot, and 
the pruning-knife. Hortense, though she loved 
the society of her mother, was not fond of these 
employments, and in subsequent life she never 
turned to them for a solace. With Josephine, 
however, this taste remained unchanged through 
life. She was also very fond of leaving the 
aristocratic walks of Malmaison, and sauntering 
through the lanes and the rural roads, where 
she could enter the cottages of the peasants, 
and listen to their simple tales of joy and grief. 
To many of these dwellings her visit was as the 
mission of an angel. Her purse was never 
closed against the wants of penury. But that 
which rendered her still more a ministering 



124 JOSEPHINE. 

spirit to the poor was that her heart was evei* 
open, with its full flood of sympathy, to share 
the grief of their bereavements, and to rejoice 
in their joy. When she sat upon the throne of 
France, and even long after she sank into the 
repose of the grave, the region around Malmai- 
son was full of recitals of her benevolence. 
Aristocratic pride at times affected to look down 
with contempt upon the elevated enjoyments 
of a noble heart. 

Thus occupied in pleading with those in 
power for those of illustrious birth who had, by 
emigration, forfeited both property and life ; 
in visiting the sick and the sorrowing in the 
humble cottages around her ; in presiding with 
queenly dignity over the brilliant soirees in her 
own saloons, where talent and rank were ever 
assembled, and in diffusing the sunlight of her 
own cheerful heart throughout the whole house- 
hold at Malmaison, Josephine, through weary 
months, awaited tidings from her absent 
husband. 




CHAPTER VIII. 



JOSEPHII^E THE WIFE OE THE PIRST CONSUL. 



The winter of 1799 opened upon France in 
the deepest gloom. The French were weary of 
the horrors of the Revolution. All business was 
at a stand. The poor had neither employment 
nor bread. Starvation reigned in the capital. 
The Austrians had again entered Italy, and 
beaten the French at almost every p.oint. No 
tidings were received from Bonaparte and the 
army in Egypt. Rumors of the death of Napo- 
leon and of a disastrous state of the enterprise 
filled the city. The government at Paris, com- 
posed of men who had emerged from obscurity 
in the storms of revolution, was imbecile and 
tyrannical in the extreme. The nation was 
weary beyond endurance of the strife of con- 
tending factions, and ardently desired some 
strong arm to be extended for the restoration 
of order, and for the establishment of an effi- 
cient and reputable government. '' The pear 
was ripe." 

On the evening of the 9th of November, a 

125 



126 JOSEPHINE. 

large and very brilliant party was assembled in 
Paris at the house of M. Gohier, president of 
the Directory. The company included all the 
most distinguished persons then resident in the 
metropolis. Josephine, being in Paris at that 
time, was one of the guests. About midnight, 
the gentlemen and ladies were gathering around 
a supper table very sumptuously spread, when 
they were startled by a telegraphic announce- 
ment, communicated to their host, that Bona- 
parte had landed that morning at Frejus, a 
small town upon the Mediterranean shore. The 
announcement created the most profound sen- 
sation. All knew that Napoleon had not re- 
turned at that critical moment without an 
object. Many were pale with apprehension, 
conscious that his popularity with the army 
would enable him to wrest from them their ill- 
gotten power. Others were elated with hope. 
Yet universal embarrassment prevailed. None 
dared to express their thoughts. No efforts 
could revive the conviviality of the evening, 
and the party soon dispersed. 

Josephine, with the deepest emotion, hast- 
ened home, immediately summoned her car- 
riage, and, taking with her Hortense and 
Louis Bonaparte, set out, without allowing an 
hour for repose, to meet her husband. She 
was very anxious to have an interview with him 
before her enemies should have an opportunity 



WIFE OF FIRST CONSUL. 



127 



to fill his mind with new accusations against 
her. The most direct route from Paris to Frejus 
passes through the city of Lyons. There 
is another and more retired route, not fre- 
quently traveled, but which Napoleon, for some 
unknown reason, took. It was a long journey 
of weary, weary leagues, over hills and plains. 
Josephine alighted not for refreshment or 
slumber, but with fresh relays of horses, night 
and day, pressed on to meet her spouse. When 
she arrived at Lyons, to her utter consternation, 
she heard that Napoleon had taken the other 
route, and some forty-eight hours before, had 
passed her on the way to Paris. No words 
can describe the anguish which these tidings 
caused her. Her husband would arrive in 
Paris and find her absent. He would imme- 
diately be surrounded by those who would try 
to feed his jealousy. Two or three days must 
elapse ere she could possibly retrace her steps. 
Napoleon arrived in Paris the 10th of November. 
It was not until nearly midnight of the 13th 
that Josephine returned. Worn out with the 
fatigues of traveling, of anxiety, and of watch- 
ing, she drove with a heavy heart to their house 
in the Rue Ohantereine. 

The enemies whom Josephine had most to 
fear were the brothers and the sisters-in-law of 
Napoleon. ' They were entirely dependent upon 
their illustrious brother for their own advance- 

XO— Josephine 



128 JOSEPHINE. 

ment in life, and were exceedingly jealous of 
the influence which Josephine had exerted over 
his mind. They feared that she would gain 
an exclusive empire where they wished also to 
reign. Taking advantage of Josephine's absence, 
they had succeeded in rousing Napoleon's 
indignation to the highest pitch. They ac- 
cused her of levity, of extravagance, of f orget- 
fulness of him, and of ever playing the coquette 
with all the debauchees of Paris. Napoleon, 
stimulated by that pride which led the Roman 
emperor to say, 'i Caesar's wife must not be 
suspected," threatened loudly " divorce — open 
and public divorce." Said one maliciously to 
him, '' she will appear before you with all her 
fascinations, explain matters .• you will forgive 
all, and tranquillity will be restored." " Never ! 
never ! " exclaimed the irritated general, strid- 
ing to and fro through the room. *' I forgive ! 
never ! You know me. Were I not sure of my 
resolution, I would pluck out this heart and 
cast it into the fire." 

Such was the mood of mind in which Napo- 
leon was prepared to receive Josephine, after 
an absence of eighteen months. Josephine and 
Hortense alighted in the courtyard, and were 
immediately enfolded in the embraces of 
Eugene, who was anxiously awaiting their 
arrival. With trembling steps and a throbbing 
heart, Josephine, accompanied by her son and 



WIFE OF FIRST CONSUL. 129 

daughter, ascended tlie stairs to a small circular 
family room where they expected to find Napo- 
leon. He was there with his brother Joseph. 
As his wife and her children entered the room, 
Napoleon glanced sternly at them, and instantly 
said to Josephine, in a severe and commanding 
tone, almost before she had crossed the thres- 
hold, 

'' Madame ! it is my wish that you retire im- 
mediately to Malmaison." 

Josephine came near falling lifeless upon the 
floor. She was caught in the arms of Eugene, 
who, in the most profound grief, had kept 
near the side of his revered and beloved mother. 
He supported her fainting steps, as, sobbing 
with anguish, she silently retired to her apart- 
ment. Napoleon, greatly agitated, traversed 
the room with hasty strides. The sight of 
Josephine had rekindled all his love, and he 
was struggling with desperate efforts to cherish 
his sense of wrong, and to fortify himself 
against any return of clemency. 

In a few moments, Josephine and Hortense, 
with Eugene, were heard descending the stairs 
to leave the house. It was midnight. For a 
week Josephine had lived in her carriage al- 
most without food or sleep. Nothing but in- 
tensity of excitement had prevented her from 
sinking down in utter weariness and exhaus- 
tion. It was a drive of thirty miles to Malmai- 



130 JOSEPHINE. 

son. Napoleon was not prepared for such 
prompt obedience. Even his stern heart could 
not resist its instinctive pleadings for his wife 
and her daughter. He hastened from his rooni, 
and though his pride would not allow him direct- 
ly to urge Josephine to remain, he insisted upon 
Eugene's returning, and urged it in such a way 
that he came back, leading with him his moth- 
er and his sister. Napoleon, however, ad- 
dressed not a word to either of them. Joseph- 
ine threw herself upon a couch in her apart- 
ment, and Napoleon, in gloomy silence, en- 
tered his cabinet. Two days of wretchedness 
passed away, during which no intercourse took 
place between the estranged parties. But the 
anger of the husband was gradually subsiding. 
Love for Josephine was slowly gaining strength 
in his heart. On the third day, his pride and 
passion were sufficiently subdued to allow him 
to enter the apartment where Josephine and 
Hortense had kept themselves secluded, 
awaiting his pleasure. Josephine was seated 
at a toilet table, with her face buried in her 
hands, and absorbed in the profoundest grief. 
On the table were exposed the letters which 
she had received from Napoleon during his 
absence, and which she had evidently been 
reading. Hortense was standing silently and 
pensively in an alcove by the window, half con- 
cealed by the curtain. Napoleon advanced with 



WIFE OF FIRST CONSUL. 131 

an irresolute step, hesitated for a moment, and 
then said, ^* Josephine !'' She started up at 
the sound of that well-known voice, and, her 
beautiful countenance all suffused with tears, 
mournfully exclaimed, '' Mon ami" in that 
peculiar tone, so pathetic, so musical, which 
ever thrilled upon the heart of Napoleon. " My 
friend^' was the term of endearment with which 
she invariably addressed her husband. Napo- 
leon was vanquished. He extended his hand 
to his deeply wronged wife. She threw herself 
into his arms, pillowed her aching head upon 
his bosom, and in the fulness of blended joy 
and anguish wept convulsively. An explana- 
tion of several hours ensued. Every shade of 
suspicion was obliterated from his mind. He 
received Josephine again to his entire confi- 
dence, and this confidence was never again inter- 
rupted. 

When Napoleon landed at Frejus, he was re- 
ceived with the most enthusiastic demonstra- 
tion of delight. There was a universal impres- 
sion that the hero of Italy, the conqueror of 
Egypt, had returned thus unexpectedly to 
France for the accomplishment of some mag- 
nificent enterprise ; yet no one knew what to 
anticipate. The moment the frigate dropped 
anchor in the bay, and it was announced that 
Napoleon was on board, thousands surrounded 
the vessel in boats, and the air was filled with 



132 JOSEPHINE. 

enthusiastic acclamations. His journey to 
Paris was one continued scene of triumph. 
Crowds gathered around him at every stopping- 
place, intoxicated with joy. The bells rang 
their merriest peals ; the booming of cannon 
echoed along the hillsides, and brilliant bon- 
fires by night blazed upon every eminence. 
Upon his arrival in Paris, the soldiers, recog- 
nizing their leader in so many brilliant victories, 
greeted him with indescribable enthusiasm, and 
cries of ^^ Vive Bonaparte 1 " resounded through 
the metropolis. His saloon, ever thronged with 
generals and statesmen, and all who were most 
illustrious in intellect and rank, resembled the 
court of a monarch. Even the most prominent 
men in the Directory, disgusted with the prog- 
ress of measures which they could not control, 
urged him to grasp the reins of power, assuring 
him that there was no hope for France but in 
his strong arm. In less than four weeks from 
his arrival in Paris, the execrated government 
was overturned. Napoleon, Sieyes, and Ducos 
were appointed consuls, and twenty-five mem- 
bers were appointed from each of the councils 
to unite with the consuls in forming a new 
Constitution. One unanimous voice of ap- 
proval rose from all parts of France in view of 
this change. No political movement could take 
place more strongly confirmed by the popular 
\vill. Napoleon hastened from the scenes of 



WIFE OF FIRST CONSUL. 183 

peril and agitation through which he had passed 
in the accomplishment of this change, that 
he might be the first to announce to Josephine 
the political victory he had achieved. 

During the perilous day, when, in the midst 
of outcries, daggers, and drawn swords, he had 
been contending with the Council of the Five 
Hundred, he could find not even one moment 
to despatcli a note from St. Cloud to his wife. 
The previous day he had kept her constantly 
informed of the progress of events. Josephine 
remained throughout the whole of the 19th of 
November, from morning until evening, with- 
out sight or tidings of her husband. She knew 
that, in the fierce strife of parties in France, 
there was no safety for life ; and when the 
darkness of night settled down around her, and 
still no word from her Napoleon, her anxiety 
amounted almost to distraction. The rum- 
bling of every carriage upon the pavement — 
every noise in the street aroused her hopes or her 
fears. Worn out with anxiety, at midnight she 
threw herself upon her bed, but not to sleep. 
Several weary hours of suspense lingered slowly 
along, when, at four o'clock in the morning, she 
heard the well-known footsteps of her husband 
upon the stairs. 

She sprang to meet him. He fondly clasped 
her in his arms, and assured her that he had 
not spoken to a single individual since he had 



134 JOSEPHINE. 

taken the oaths of office, that the voice of his 
Josephine might be the first to congratulate 
him upon his virtual accession to the empire of 
France. An animated conversation ensued, 
and then Napoleon, throwing himself upon his 
couch for a few moments' repose, gaily said, 
*' Good-night, my Josephine! to-morrow we 
sleep in the Luxembourg.'' 

The next day the three consuls met in Paris. 
His colleagues, however, immediately perceived 
that the towering ambition of Napoleon would 
brook no rival. He showed them the absurdity 
of their plans, and compelled them to assent to 
the superior wisdom of his own. The untiring 
vigor of his mind, the boldness and energy of 
his thoughts, and his intuitive and almost mi- 
raculous familiarity with every branch of polit- 
ical science, overawed his associates, and the 
whole power passed, with hardly the slightest 
resistance, into his own hands. Immediately 
after their first interview, the Abbe Sieyes, who 
combined great weakness with extensive knowl- 
edge, remarked to Talleyrand and others, 
'' Gentlemen, I perceive that we have got a 
master. Bonaparte can do and will do every- 
thing himself. But," he continued, after a 
pause, " it is better to submit than to protract 
dissensions forever." 

In this most astonishing revolution, thus sud- 
denly accomplished, and without the shedding 



WIFE OF FIRST CONSUL. 135 

of a drop of blood, Napoleon was much indebted 
to the influence which his wife had exerted in 
his behalf during his absence in Egypt. The 
dinners she had given, the guests she had enter- 
tained in her saloons evening after evening, 
consisting of the most distinguished scholars, 
and statesmen, and generals in the metropolis, 
had contributed greatly to the popularity of her 
husband, and had surrounded him with devoted 
friends. Napoleon ever acknowledged his obli- 
gations to Josephine for the essential service 
she had thus rendered him. 

The next morning Napoleon and Josephine 
removed from their elegant yet comparatively 
plebeian residence in the Eue Chantereine to 
the palace of the Luxembourg. This, however, 
was but the stepping-stone to the Tuilleries, 
the world-renowned abode of the monarchs of 
France. They remained for two months at the 
Luxembourg. The energies of Napoleon were 
employed every moment in promoting changes 
in the internal affairs of France, which even 
his bitterest enemies admit were marked with 
the most eminent wisdom and benevolence. 
During the two months of their residence at 
the Luxembourg, no domestic event of import- 
ance occurred, except the marriage of Murat 
with Caroline, the sister of Napoleon. Caroline 
was exceedingly beautiful. Murat was one of 
the favorite aids of Bonaparte. Their nuptials 



136 JOSEPHTKE. 

were celebrated with great splendor, and the 
gay Parisians began again to be amused with 
something like the glitter of royalty. 

Each day Napoleon became more popular 
and his power more firmly established. Soon 
all France was prepared to see the first consul 
take up his residence in the ancient apartments 
of the kings of France. The Tuilleries had 
been sacked again and again by the mob. The 
gorgeous furniture, the rich paintings, and all 
the voluptuous elegance which the wealth of 
Louis XIV. could create, had been thrown 
into the courtyard and consumed by the infuri- 
ated populace. Royalty itself had been pur- 
sued and insulted in its most sacred retreats. 

By slow and cautious advances. Napoleon re- 
furnished these magnificent saloons. The em- 
blems of Jacobin misrule were silently effaced. 
Statues of Brutus and Washington, of Demos- 
thenes, and of others renowned for illustrious 
deeds, were placed in the vacant niches, and 
the Tuilleries again appeared resplendent as 
in the days of pristine pride and power. 

On the morning of the 19th of February, 
1800, all Paris was in commotion to witness 
the transfer of the embryo court of the first 
consul and his colleagues from the Luxembourg 
to the Tuilleries. Already the colleagues of 
Napoleon had become so entirely eclipsed by 
the superior brilliance of their imperious asso- 



WIFE OF FIRST CONSUL. 137 

ciate that their names were almost forgotten. 
The royal apartments were prepared for Napo- 
leon, while those in the Pavilion of Flora were 
assigned to the two other consuls. The three 
consuls entered a magnificent carriage, drawn 
by six white horses. A gorgeous train of offi- 
cers, with six thousand picked troops in the 
richest uniform, surrounded the cortege. 
Many of the long-abolished usages of royalty 
were renewed upon that day. Twenty thou- 
sand soldiers, in most imposing military array, 
were drawn up before the palace. The mo- 
ment the carriage appeared, the very heavens 
seemed rent with their cries, "Vive le premier 
consul ! " The two associate consuls were 
ciphers. They sat at his side as pages to em- 
bellish his triumph. This day placed Napo- 
leon in reality upon the throne of France, and 
Josephine that evening moved, a queen, in the 
apartments hallowed by the beauty and the 
sufferings of Maria Antoinette. 

The suite of rooms appropriated to the wife 
of the first consul consisted of two magnificent 
saloons, with private apartments adjoining. 
No French monarch ever sauntered through a 
more dazzling scene than that which graced 
the drawing-rooms of Josephine on this occa- 
sion. Ambassadors from nearly all the courts 
of Europe were present. The army con- 
tributed its utmost display of rank and military 



138 JOSEPHINE. 

pomp to embellish the triumph of its most 
successful general. And the metropolis con- 
tributed all that it still retained of brilliance in 
ancestral renown or in intellectual achievement. 
When Josephine entered the gorgeously-illu- 
minated apartments of the palace, leaning upon 
the arm of Talleyrand, and dressed in the ele- 
gance of the most perfect simplicity, a murmur 
of admiration arose from the whole assembly. 
She was attired in a robe of white muslin. 
Her hair fell in graceful ringlets upon her neck 
and shoulders. A necklace of pearls of great 
value completed her costume. The queenly 
elegance of her figure, the inimitable grace of her 
movements, the peculiar conversational tact she 
possessed, and the melody of a voice which, once 
heard, never was forgotten, gave to Josephine, 
on this eventful evening, a social triumph 
corresponding with that which Napoleon had 
received during the day. She entered the 
rooms to welcome her guests before her hus- 
band. As she made the tour of the apartments, 
supported by the minister, whose commanding 
figure towered above all the rest, she was first 
introduced to the foreign ambassadors, and 
then to others of distinguished name and note. 
^'^ Napoleon wins battles, but Josephine wins 
hearts." This was the all-appropriate theater 
for the triumph of Josephine. Here she was 
entirely at home. Instinct taught her every- 



WIFE OF FIRST CONSUL. 139 

thing that was graceful and pleasing. Eti- 
quette, that stern tyrant so necessary for the 
control of common minds, was compelled to 
bow in subjection to Josephine, for her actions 
became a higher law. In the exuberance of 
benevolent joy, she floated through this bril- 
liant scene, wherever she appeared exciting ad- 
miration, though she sought only to diffuse 
enjoyment. 

Josephine was now about thirty-three years 
of age, and while in personal charms she re- 
tained all the fascination of more youthful 
years, her mind, elevated and ennobled by re- 
verses and sufferings most magnanimously 
borne, and cultivated by the daily exercise of 
its rich endowments, enabled her to pass from 
the circles of fashion to the circles of science, 
from those who thought only of the accomplish- 
ments of the person to those who dwelt in the 
loftiest regions of the intellect, and to be 
equally admired by both. 

Her figure appears to have been molded into 
the absolute perfection of the female frame, nei- 
ther too large for the utmost delicacy of femi- 
nine beauty, nor too small for queenly dignity. 
The exquisite symmetry of her form and the 
elasticity of her step gave an ethereal aspect to 
her movements. Her features, of Grecian out- 
line, were finely modeled, and through them all 
the varying emotions of the soul were unceas- 



140 JOSEPHINE. 

ingly beaming. No one probably ever possessed 
in a higher degree this resistless charm of femi- 
nine loveliness. Her eyes were of a deep blue, 
and possessed a winning tenderness of expres- 
sion when reposing upon those she loved which 
could not be resisted. Napoleon, even when 
most agitated by the conflicts of his stormy 
life, was speedily subdued by the tranquilizing 
power of her looks of love. But the tone and 
modulations of her voice in conversation con- 
stituted the most remarkable attraction of this 
most attractive woman. No one could listen 
to her sparkling, flowing, musical words with- 
out feeling the fascination of their strange 
melody. " The first applauses of the French 
people,'^ says Napoleon, "fell upon my ear 
sweet as the voice of Josephine." 

The rural charms of Malmaison, however, 
exerted a more powerful sway over both the 
first consul and his companion than the more 
splendid attractions of the Tuilleries. The 
Revolutionary government had abolished the 
Sabbath, and appointed every tenth day for 
rest and recreation. Napoleon and Josephine 
habitually spent this day at Malmaison. There, 
in the retirement of green fields and luxuriant 
groves, surrounded by those scenes of nature 
which had peculiar charms for them both, they 
found that quiet happiness which is in vain 
sought amid the turmoil of the camp or the 



WIFE OF FIRST CONSUL. 141 

splendor of the court. Josephine, in particu- 
lar, here found her most serene and joyous 
hours. She regretted the high ambition of her 
husband, while, at the same time, she felt a 
wife's pride and gratification in view of the 
honors which were so profusely heaped upon 
him. It delighted her to see him here lay 
aside the cares of state, and enjoy with her the 
unostentatious pleasures of the flower-garden 
and the farmyard. And when the hour came 
for them to return from their rural villa to their 
city palace, Napoleon often said, with a sigh, 
^' Now it is necessary for us to go and put on 
again the yoke of misery." 

The dangers of greatness soon began to hover 
around the path of the first consul. Joseph- 
ine was continually alarmed with rumors of 
conspiracies and plots of assassination. The 
utter indifference of Napoleon to all such perils, 
and his entire disregard of all precautionary 
measures, only increased the anxiety of his wife. 
The road leading from Paris to Malmaison 
wound through a wild district, then but thinly 
inhabited, and which presented many facilities 
for deeds of violence. Whenever Napoleon was 
about to traverse this road, Josephine sent the 
servants of their private establishment to scru- 
tinize all its lurking-places where any foes 
might be concealed. Napoleon, though grati- 
fied by this kind care, often amused and good- 

XI — Josephine 



142 JOSEPHINE. 

naturedly teased Josephine with most ludicrous 
accounts of the perils and hair-breadth escapes 
which he had encountered. She also had large 
and powerful dogs trained to guard the grounds 
of Malmaison from any intrusion by night. 

On the evening of the day when Napoleon 
made his entry into the Tuilleries, he remarked 
to Bourrienne, '^ It is not enough to be in the 
Tuilleries, we must take measures to remain 
there. Who has not inhabited this palace ? It 
has been the abode of robbers — of the Conven- 
tion. There is your brother's house, from 
which, eight years ago, we saw the good Louis 
XVI. besieged in the Tuilleries and carried off 
into captivity. But you need not fear a repe 
tition of the scene. Let them attempt it with 
me if they dare" To all the cautions of his 
anxious wife respecting assassination, he ever 
quietly replied, *' My dear Josephine, they dare 
not do it/' 





CHAPTER IX. 



DEVELOPMENTS OF CHARACTER. 



During Napoleon's absence in Egypt the 
Aiistrians had again invaded Italy. The 
French troops had been beaten in many battles, 
and driven from vast extents of territory, 
over which Napoleon had caused the flag of the 
Republic to float in triumph. The first consul 
having, with almost superhuman energy, ar- 
ranged the internal affairs of his government, 
now turned his thoughts toward the defeated 
armies of France, which had been driven back 
into the fastnesses of the Alj^s. '' I must go," 
said he, **my dear Josephine. But I will not 
forget you, and I will not be absent long. ''^ He 
bade adieu to his wife at the Tuilleries on the 
7th of May, 1800. At midnight of the 2d of 
July he returned, having been absent less than 
two months. In that brief period he drove the 
Austrians from all their strongholds, regained 
Italy, and by a campaign more brilliant than 
any other which history has ever recorded, 

added immeasurably to his own moral power. 

143 



144 JOSEPHINE. 

These astonishing victories excited the Parisians 
to a delirium of joy. Night after night the 
streets were illuminated, and whenever Napo- 
leon appeared, crowds thronged him, filling the 
air with their acclamations. These triumphs, 
however, instead of satisfying Napoleon, did 
but add fuel to his all-absorbing ambition. 
"A few more great events/' said he, ''like 
those of this campaign, and I may really de- 
scend to posterity. But still it is little enough. 
I have conquered, it is true, in less than two 
years, Cairo, Paris, Milan. But, were I to die 
to-morrow, half a page of general history would, 
after ten centuries, be all that would be de- 
voted to my exploits. '' 

During his absence Josephine passed her 
time at Malmaison. And it surely is indica- 
tive not only of the depth of Napoleon's love 
for Josephine, but also of his appreciation of 
those delicate attentions which could touch the 
heart of a loving wife, that in this busiest of 
campaigns, in which, by day and by night, he 
was upon the horse's back, with hardly one 
moment allowed for refreshment or repose, 
rarely did a single day pass in which he did not 
transmit some token of affection to Malmaison. 
Josephine daily watched, with the most intense 
interest, the arrival of the courier with the brief 
and almost illegible note from her husband, 
Sometimes,the blurred and blotted lines were 



DEVELOPMENTS OF CHARACTER. 145 

hastily written upon horseback, with the pom- 
mel of his saddle for his writing-desk. Some- 
times they were written, at his dictation, by 
his secretary, upon a drum-head, on the field 
of carnage, when the mangled bodies of the 
dying and the dead were strewed all around 
him, and the thunders of the retreating battle 
were still echoing over the plains. These deli- 
cate attentions to his wife exhibit a noble trait 
in the character of Napoleon. And she must 
have been indeed a noble woman who could 
have inspired such a mind with esteem and 
tenderness so profound. 

Josephine employed much of her time in su- 
perintending those improvements which she 
thought would please her husband on his re- 
turn ; creating for him pleasant little surprises, 
as she should guide his steps to the picturesque 
walk newly opened, to the rustic bridge span- 
ning the stream, to the rural pavilion, where, 
in the evening twilight, they could commune. 
She often rode on horseback with Hortense, 
who was peculiarly fond of all those pleasures 
which had the concomitants of graceful display. 

After Napoleon's triumphant return from 
Italy, the visits to Malmaison were more frequent 
than ever before. Napoleon and Josephine 
often spent several days there ; and in after years 
they frequently spoke of these hours as the 
pleasantest they had passed in life. The agree- 

lO 



146 JOSEPHINE. 

able retirement of Malmaison was, however, 
changed into enjoyment more public and social 
by the crowds of visitors with which its saloons 
and parks were filled. Josephine received her 
guests with republican simplicity, united with 
the utmost elegance. Her reception-room was 
continually thronged with the most distin- 
guished officers of the government, renowned 
generals, and all the men most illustrious for 
birth and talent the metropolis contained. 

The circle assembled here was, indeed, a 
happy one. A peculiar bond of union existed 
through out the whole household, for Napoleon, 
as well as Josephine, secured the most devoted 
attachment of all the servants. One of their 
favorite amusements was family theatricals. 
Eugene and Hortense took an active part in 
these performances, in which both had talents 
to excel. 

But the favorite and most characteristic 
amusement at Malmaison was the game of 
^^ Prisoners,^' a common game among the school- 
boys of France, though comparatively little 
known in this country. The company is divid- 
ed into two parties. Those who are appointed 
leaders choose each their respective sides. 
Bounds are assigned to each party, and a par- 
ticular point as a fortress. If any one is caught 
away from the fortress by one who left his own 
station after the captive left the hostile fort, he 



DEVELOPMENTS OF CHARACTER. 147 

is a prisoner, and must remain at the appointed 
prison until rescued. For instance, Hortense 
leaves her fortress, and cautiously invades the 
territory of the enemy. Josephine darts after 
her, and eagerly pursues her over the green- 
sward. Eugene, who remains at his fortress 
until after Josephine left hers, bounds after 
his mother. It is now her turn to flee. But 
others of her party, who have remained under 
the protection of their fortress, rush to her res- 
cue. Eugene, however, succeeds in touching his 
mother before they reach him, and leads her off 
in triumph a prisoner. A tree, perhaps, at a 
little distance, is her prison. Here she must 
remain until rescued by a touch from one of her 
own party. But if the one who is rushing to 
her rescue is touched by one of the other party 
who left his fortress an instant later, another 
captive is taken to stand by her side. 

In this mimicry of war Napoleon always de- 
lighted to engage. After dinner, upon the lawn 
at Malmaison, the most distinguished gentlemen 
and ladies, not of France only, but of all Europe, 
were often actively and most mirthfully engaged 
in this sport. Kings, and queens, and princes 
of the blood royal were often seen upon the lawn 
at Malmaison pursuing and pursued. Napo- 
leon and Josephine, and most of the friends who 
surrounded them, were in the vigor of athletic 
youth, and, in entire abandonment to the frolic 



148 JOSEPHINE. ■ 

of the hour, the air resounded with their shouts. 
It was observed that Napoleon was ever anxious 
to choose Josephine as the first on his side, and 
he seemed nervously excited, if she was taken 
prisoner, until she was rescued. He was a poor 
runner, and often fell, rolling over headlong 
upon the grass, while he and all his associates 
were convulsed with laughter. When there was 
no special engagement demanding attention, 
this sport often continued for hours. Napoleon 
was often taken captive. But when Josephine 
was imprisoned, he was incessantly clapping his 
hands, and shouting, '^ A rescue ! a rescue ! " 
till she was released. A gloomy misanthrope, 
wrapped in self, could not have enjoyed these 
scenes of innocent hilarity. 

But the life of Josephine was not devoted to 
amusement. While she entered with warmth 
into these sports, being the soul of every festive 
party, her heart was consecrated to the promo- 
tion of happiness in every way in her power. 
When a child, playing with the little negresses 
of Martinique, she was adored as their queen. 
When in penury, crossing the Atlantic, by kind 
sympathy manifested for the sick and the sor- 
rowful, she won the hearts of the seamen. When 
a prisoner, under sentence of death, by her 
cheerfulness, her forgetfulness of self, and her 
hourly deeds of delicate attention to others, she 
became an object of universal love in those cells 



DEVELOPMENTS OF CHARACTER. 149 

of drijpair. When prosperity again dawned 
upon her, and she was in the enjoyment of an 
ample competence, every cottage in the vicinity 
of Malmaison testified to her benevolence. And 
now, when placed in a position of power, all her 
influence was exerted to relieve the misfortunes 
of those illustrious men whom the storms of 
revolution had driven from their homes and from 
France. She never forgot the unfortunate, but 
devoted a considerable portion of her income 
to the relief of the emigrants. She was at 
times accused of extravagance. Her nature 
was generous in the extreme, and the profusion 
of her expenditures was an index of her expan- 
sive benevolence. 

Napoleon, soon after he became first consul, 
published a decree, inviting the emigrants to 
return, and did what he could to restore to them 
their confiscated estates. There were, however, 
necessarily exceptions from the general act of 
amnesty. Cases were continually arising of 
peculiar perplexity and hardship, where widows 
and orphans, reduced from opulence to penury, 
sought lost property, which, during the tumult 
of the times, had become involved in inextrica- 
ble embarrassments. All such persons made 
application to Josephine. She ever found time 
to listen to their tales of sorrow, to speak words 
of sympathy, and, with great soundness of judg- 
ment, to render them all the aid in her power. 



160 JOSEPHINE. 

''Josephine," said Napolen, in reference to 
these her applications for the unfortunate/' will 
not take a refusal. But, it must be confessed, 
she rarely undertakes a case which has not pro- 
priety, at least, on its side.'' The Jacobin laws 
had fallen with fearful severity upon all the 
members of the ancient aristocracy and all the 
friends of royalty. The cause of these victims 
of anarchy Josephine was ever ready to es- 
pouse. 

A noble family by the name of Decrest had 
been indebted to the interposition of the wife of 
the first consul for their permission to return to 
France. As nearly all their property had disap- 
peared during their exile, Josephine continued 
to befriend them with her influence and her 
purse. On the evening of a festival day, a 
grand display of fireworks was exhibited on 
the banks of the Seine. A rocket, misdirected, 
struck a son of the marquis on the breast, aud 
instantly killed him. The young man, who 
was on the eve of his marriage to the daughter 
of an ancient friend, was an officer of great 
promise, and the hope of the declining family. 
His death was a terrible calamity, as well as a 
most afflictive bereavement. The father aban- 
doned himself to all the delirium of inconsolable 
grief, and was so utterly lost in the depths of 
despair, that it was feared his mind would 
never again recover its tone. The Duke of 



DEVELOPMENTS OF CHARACTER. 151 

Orleans was grand-uncle of the young man 
who was killed, and Madame Montesson, the 
mother of Louis Philippe, sent for her distressed 
relatives that she might administer to their 
consolation. All her endeavors, however, were 
entirely unavailing. 

In the midst of this afflictive scene, Josephine 
entered the saloon of Madame Montesson. Her 
own heart taught her that in such a grief as 
this words were valueless. Silently she took 
by the hand the eldest daughter, a beautiful 
girl, whose loveliness plead loudly for a father's 
care, and in the other arm she took their infant 
child of fifteen months, and, with her own 
cheeks bathed in tears, she kneeled before the 
stricken mourner. He raised his eyes and saw 
Josephine, the wife of the first consul, kneeling 
before him, and imploringly presenting his two 
children. He was at first astonished at the 
sight. Then, bursting into tears, he exclaimed, 
*' Yes ! I have much for which I am yet bound 
to live. These children have claims upon me, 
and I must no longer yield to despair." A lady 
who was present on this occasion says, '^I wit- 
nessed this scene, and shall never forget it. 
The wife of the first consul expressed, in lan- 
guage which I will not attempt to imitate, all 
that tenderness which the maternal bosom alone 
knows. She was the very image of a minis- 
tering angel, for the touching charm of her 



162 JOSEPHINE. 

voice and look pertained more to heaven than 
to earth/" Josephine had herself seen days as 
dark as could lower over a mortal's path. Love 
for her children was then the only tie which 
bound her to life. In those days of anguish she 
learned the only appeal which, under these cir- 
cumstances, could touch a despairing father's 
heart. 

Several conspiracies were formed about this 
time against the life of the first consul. That 
of the Infernal Machine was one of the most 
desperate, reckless, and atrocious which history 
has recorded. On the evening of December 24, 
1800, Napoleon was going to the opera. Three 
gentlemen were with him in his carriage. Jo- 
sephine, with Hortense and one or two others, 
followed in another carriage. In passing from 
the Tuilleries to the theater, it was necessary 
to pass through the narrow street St. Nicaire. 
A cart, apparently by accident overturned, ob- 
structed the passage. The coachman, how- 
ever, who was driving his horses very rapidly, 
crowded his way by. He had barely passed 
the cart when a terrific explosion took place, 
which was heard all over Paris. Eight persons 
were instantly killed and more than sixty 
wounded. Some of the houses in the vicinity 
were nearly blown down. The windows of both 
the carriages were shattered, and Hortense was 
slightly wounded by the broken glass. Napo- 



DEVELOPMENTS OF CHARACTER. 153 

leon drove on to the opera, where he found the 
audience in the utmost consternation, for the 
explosion had shaken the whole city. He en- 
tered with a countenance as perfectly calm and 
untroubled as if nothing unusual had occurred. 
Every eye was fixed upon him. As soon as it 
was perceived that his person was safe, thun- 
ders of applause shook the walls of the theater. 
On every side Napoleon was greeted with the 
most devoted expressions of attachment. Soon 
Josephine came in, pale and trembling, and, 
after remaining half an hour, they both retired 
to the Tuilleries. Napoleon found the palace 
crowded with all the public functionaries of 
Paris, who had assembled to congratulate him 
upon his escape. 

The life of Josephine was saved on this oc- 
casion by apparently the merest accident. She 
had recently received a magnificent shawl, a 
present from Constantinople, and was preparing 
to wear it that evening for the first time. Na- 
poleon, however, in playful criticism, con- 
demned the shawl, remarking upon its pattern 
and its color, and commending one which he 
deemed far more beautiful. *' You are a bold 
man," said Josephine, smiling, '* in venturing 
to criticise my toilette. I shall take my revenge 
in giving you a lesson how to attack a redoubt. 
However," she continued, turning to one of her 
Opttendants, "bring me the generals favorite, 



154 JOSEPHINE. 

I will wear that." A delay of a few moments 
was caused in exchanging the shawls. In the 
mean time, Kapoleon, with his friends, entered 
his carriage and drove on. Josephine soon fol- 
lowed. She had but just entered the street when 
the explosion took place. Had she followed, 
as usual, directly behind Napoleon, her death 
would have been almost inevitable. 

It was subsequently ascertained, greatly to 
the surprise of Napoleon and of all Europe, 
that the Koyalists were the agents in this con- 
spiracy. Napoleon had been their benefactor, 
and while he knew it to be impossible to replace 
the Bourbons upon the throne of France, he 
did everything in his power to mitigate the 
misfortunes which Jacobin violence had inflicted 
upon their friends. The first consul made no 
disguise of his utter detestation of the Jacobins, 
and of their reign of merciless tyranny. He 
consequently supposed that they were the au- 
thors of the atrocious crime. The real authors 
of the conspiracy were, however, soon discov- 
ered. Fouche, whom Bonaparte disliked ex- 
ceedingly for his inhuman deeds during the 
Revolution, was the Minister of Police. Upon 
him mainly devolved the trial and the punish- 
ment of the accused. Josephine immediately 
wrote a letter to Fouche, most strikingly indic- 
ative of the benevolence of her noble heart, 
and of that strength of mind, which could un- 



DEVELOPMENTS OF CHARACTER. 155 

derstand that the claims of justice must not 
pass unheeded. 

** Citizen-Minister, — While I yet tremble 
at the frightful event which has just occurred, 
I am disquieted and distressed through fear of 
the punishment necessarily to be inflicted on 
the guilty, who belong, it is said, to families 
with whom 1 once lived in habits of intercourse. 
I shall be solicited by mothers, sisters, and dis- 
consolate wives ; and my heart will be broken 
through my inability to obtain all the mercy 
for which I would plead. 

*' I know that the clemency of the first con- 
sul is great, his attachment to me extreme ; but 
the crime is too dreadful that terrible example 
should not be necessary. The chief of the gov- 
ernment has not been alone exposed ; and it is 
that which will render him severe — inflexible 
I conjure you, therefore, to do all in your power 
to prevent inquiries being pushed too far. Do 
not detect all those persons who may have been 
accomplices in these odious transactions. Let 
not France, so long overwhelmed in consterna- 
tion by public executions, groan anew beneath 
such inflictions. It is even better to endeavor 
to soothe the public mind than to exasperate 
men by fresh terrors. In short, when the ring- 
leaders of this nefarious attempt shall have been 
secured, let severity give place to pity for in- 
ferior agents, seduced as they may have been 

12 — Josephine 



156 JOSEPHINE. 

by dangerous falsehoods or exaggerated opin- 
ions. 

'' When jnst invested with supreme power, 
the first consul, as seems to me, ought rather 
to gain hearts than to be exhibited as ruling 
slaves. Soften by your counsels whatever may 
be too violent in his just resentment. Punish 
— alas ! that you must certainly do — but par- 
don still more. Be also the support of those 
unfortunate men who, by frank avowal or re- 
pentance, shall expiate a portion of their crime. 

" Having myself narrowly escaped perishing 
in the Eevolution, you must regard as quite 
natural my interference on behalf of those who 
can be saved without involving in new danger 
the life of my husband, precious to me and to 
France. On this account, do, I entreat you, 
make a wide distinction between the authors 
of the crime and those who, through weakness 
or fear, have consented to take a part therein. 
As a woman, a wife and a mother, I must feel 
the heart-rendings of those who will apply to 
me. Act, citizen minister, in such a manner 
that the number of these may be lessened. 
This will spare me much grief. Never will I 
turn away from the supplications of misfortune. 
But in the present instance you can do infi- 
nitely more than I, and you will, on this ac- 
count, excuse my importunity. Eely on my 
gratitude and esteem.''^ 



DEVELOPMENTS OP CHAKACTER. 157 

Hortense was now eighteen years of age. 
Louis Napoleon, brother of the first consul, 
was twenty-four. The plan was formed by 
Napoleon and Josephine of uniting them in 
marriage. Louis was a studious, imaginative, 
pensive man, with no taste for the glitter and 
pomp of fashion, and with a decided aversion 
to earth's noisy ambition. He loved commun- 
ing with his own thoughts, the falling leaf, 
the sighing wind — the fireside with its books, 
its solitude, its sacred society of one or two 
congenial friends. He belonged to that class 
of men, always imbued with deep feeling, 
whose happiness is only found in those hal- 
lowed affections which bind kindred hearts in 
congenial pursuits and joys. As Napoleon 
was riding triumphantly upon his war-horse 
over the Austrian squadrons in Italy, achiev- 
ing those brilliant victories which paved his 
way to the throne of France, Louis, then a 
young man but nineteen years of age, met in 
Paris a young lady, the daughter of an emi- 
grant noble, for whom he formed a strong at- 
tachment, and his whole soul became absorbed 
in the passion of love. Napoleon was informed 
of this attachment, and, apprehensive that the 
alliance of his brother with one of the Royalist 
families might endanger his own ambitious 
projects, he sent him away on a military com- 
mission, and with his inflexible will and strong 



158 JOSEPHmE. 

arm broke off the connection. The young 
lady was soon afterward married to another 
gentleman, and poor Louis was plunged into 
depths of disappointment and melancholy, 
from which he never emerged. Life was ever 
after to him but a cloudy day, till, with a grief - 
worn spirit, he sank into the grave. 

Napoleon, conscious of the wound he had in- 
flicted upon his sensitive brother, endeavored, 
in various ways, to make amends. There was 
very much in his gentle, affectionate, and fer- 
vent spirit to attract the tender regard of 
Napoleon, and he ever after manifested to- 
ward him a disposition of peculiar kindness. 
It was long before Louis would listen to the 
proposition of his marriage with Hortense. 
His affections still clung, though hopelessly, 
yet so tenaciously to the lost object of his 
idolatry, that he could not think, without pain, 
of his union with another. More uncongenial 
nuptials could hardly have been imagined. 
Hortense was a beautiful, merry, thoughtless 
girl — amiable, but very fond of excitement 
and display. In the ball-room, the theater, 
and other places of brilliant entertainment, 
she found her chief pleasures. In addition to 
this incongruity, she was already in love with 
the handsome Duroc, the favorite aide of Na- 
poleon. It was not strange that such a young 
lady should have seen as little to fancy in the 



DEVELOPMENTS OF CHARACTER. 159 

disappointed and melancholy Louis as he could 
see attractive in one who lived but for the 
pageantry of the passing hour. Thus both 
parties were equally averse to the match. The 
tact of Josephine, however, and the power of 
Napoleon combined, soon overcame all obsta- 
cles, and the mirth-loving maiden and the pen- 
sive scholar were led to their untoward nup- 
tials. Hortense became more easily reconciled 
to the match, as her powerful father promised, 
in consequence of this alliance, to introduce 
her to seats of grandeur where all her desires 
should be gratified. Louis, resigning himself 
to any lot in a world which had no further joy 
in store for him, suffered himself to be con- 
ducted submissively to the altar. 

At the fete given in honor of this marriage, 
the splendors of ancient royalty seemed to be 
revived. But every eye could see the sadness 
of the newly-married bride beneath the pro- 
fusion of diamonds and flowers with which she 
was adorned. Louis Napoleon, the former 
President of the French Republic, was the only 
surviving offspring of this uncongenial union. 

The gay and handsome Duroc, who had been 
the accepted lover of Hortense, was soon after 
married to an heiress, who brought him, with 
an immense fortune, a haughty spirit and an 
irritable temper, which embittered all his days. 
The subsequent life of Hortense presents one 



160 JOSEPHINE. 

of the most memorable illustrations of the in- 
sufficiency of human grandeur to promote 
happiness. Josephine witnessed with intense 
solicitude the utter want of congeniality ex- 
isting between them, and her heart often bled 
as she saw alienation growing stronger and 
stronger, until it resulted in an entire separa- 
tion. Hortense might easily have won and 
retained the affections of the pensive but warm- 
hearted Louis, had she followed the counsels 
of her noble mother. Josephine, herself the 
almost perfect model of a wife, was well quali- 
fied to give advice in such a case. The fol- 
lowing letter, written to Hortense some time 
before her separation from Louis, exhibits 
in a most amiable light the character of Jo- 
sephine. 

To Queen Hortense. 

"What I learned eight days ago gave me the 
greatest pain. What I observe to-day confirms 
and augments my sorrow. Why show to Louis 
this repugnance ? Instead of rendering him 
more ungracious still by caprice, by inequality 
of character, why do you not rather make efforts 
to surmount your indifference ? But you will 
say, he is not amiable ! All that is relative. 
If not in your eyes amiable, he may appear so 
to others, and all women do not view him 
through the medium of dislike. As for myself. 



DEVELOPMENTS OP CHARACTER. iGl 

who am here altogether disinterested, I imagine 
that I behold him as he is, more loving, doubt- 
less, then lovaUe, but this is a great and rare 
quality. He is generous, beneficent, feeling, 
and, above all, an excellent father. If you so 
willed, he would prove a good husband. His 
melancholy, his love of study and retirement, 
injure him in your estimation. For these, I 
ask you, is he to blame ? Is he obliged to con- 
form his nature to circumstances ? Who could 
have predicted to him his fortune ? But, ac- 
cording to you, he has not even the courage to 
bear that fortune. This, I believe, is an error ; 
but he certainly wants the strength. With his 
ascetic inclinations, his invincible desire of re- 
tirement and study, he finds himself misplaced 
in the elevated rank to which he has attained. 
You desire that he should imitate his brother. 
Give him, first of all, the same temperament. 
You have not failed to remark that almost our 
entire existence depends upon our health, and 
that upon our digestion. Let poor Louis digest 
better, and you would find him more amiable. 
But, such as he is, there can be no reason for 
abandoning him, or making him feel the un- 
becoming sentiments with which he inspires 
you. Do you, whom I have seen so kind, con- 
tinue to be so at the moment when it is pre- 
cisely more than ever necessary. Take pity on a 
man who has to lament that he possesses what 
II 



162 JOSEPHINE. 

would constitute another's happiness ; and, be- 
fore condemning him, think of others who, like 
him, have groaned beneath the burden of their 
greatness, and bathed with their tears that 
diadem which they believed had never been 
destined for their brow." 

This, surely, w^as admirable counsel, and, 
had Hortense followed it, she would have saved 
herself many a long year of loneliness and 
anguish. But the impetuous and thoughtless 
bride could not repress the repugnance with 
which she regarded the cold exterior and the 
exacting love of her husband. Louis demanded 
from her a singleness and devotedness of af- 
fection which was unreasonable. He wished to 
engross all her faculties of loving. He desired 
that every passion of her soul should be cen- 
tered in him, and was jealous of any happiness 
she found excepting that which he could give. 
He was even troubled by the tender regard with 
which she cherished her mother and her 
brother, considering all the love she gave to 
them as so much withheld from him. Hortense 
was passionately fond of music and of painting. 
Louis almost forbade her the enjoyment of 
those delightful accomplishments, thinking 
that she pursued them with a heartfelt devotion 
inconsistent with that supreme love with which 
she ought to regard her husband. Hortense, 
proud and high-spirited, would not submit to 




Josephine, face p. 163 



Louis Bonaparte. 



DEVELOPMENTS OF CHARACTER. 168 

such tyranny. She resisted and retaliated. 
She became, consequently, wretched, and her 
husband wretched, and discord withered all the 
joys of home. At last, the union of such dis- 
cordant spirits became utterly insupportable. 
They separated. The story of their domestic 
quarrels vibrated upon the ear of Europe. 
Louis wandered here and there, joyless and 
sad, till, weary of a miserable life, alone and 
friendless, he died. Hortense retired, with a 
restless and suffering heart, to the mountains 
of Switzerland, where, in a secluded castle, she 
lingered out the remaining years of her sorrow- 
ful pilgrimage. It was an unfortunate match. 
Having been made, the only possible remedy 
was in pursuing the course which Josephine so 
earnestly recommended. Had Josephine been 
married to Louis, she would have followed the 
course she counseled her daughter to pursue. 
She would have leaned fondly upon his arm in 
his morning and evening walks. She would 
have cultivated a lively interest in his reading, 
his studies, and all his quiet domestic pleasures. 
She would, as far as possible, have relinquished 
every pursuit which could by any possibility 
have caused him pain. Thus she would have 
won his love and his admiration. Every day 
her power over him would have been increasing. 
Gradually her inflnence would have molded his 
character to a better model. He would have 



164 JOSEPHIM. 

become proud of his wife. He would have 
leaned upon her arm. He would have been 
supported by her affection and her intellectual 
strength. He would have become more cheer- 
ful in character and resolute in purpose. Days 
of tranquillity and happiness would have embel- 
lished their dwelling. The spirit of Josephine ! 
It is nolle as well as loiwly. It accomplishes 
the most exalted achievements, and diffuses the 
most ennobling happiness. There are thousands 
of unions as uncongenial as that of Hortense 
and Louis. From the woes such unions would 
naturally engender there is but one refuge, and 
Josephine has most beautifully shown what 
that refuge is. Hortense, proud and high- 
spirited, resolved that she would not submit to 
the exacting demands of her husband. In her 
sad fate we read the warning not to imitate her 
example. 

Hortense is invariably described as an un- 
usually fascinating woman. She had great 
vivacity of mind, and displayed much brilliance 
of conversational powers. Her person was 
finely formed, and she inherited much of that 
graceful demeanor which so signally character- 
ized her mother. She was naturally amiable, 
and was richly endowed with all those accom- 
plishments which enable one to excel in the art 
of pleasing. Louis, more than any other of 
the brothers, most strongly resembled Napo- 



DEVELOPMENTS OF CHARACTER. 165 

leon. He was a very handsome man, and pos- 
sessed far more than ordinary abilities. Under 
less untoward circumstances he might have 
been eminently happy. Few persons, however. 




Napoleon and the Children of Josephine. 
have journeyed along the path of life under a 
darker cloud than that which ever shed its 
gloom upon the footsteps of Louis and Hor- 
tmse. 

Among the various attempts which had been 
made to produce alienation between Napoleon 
and Josephine, one of the most atrocious was 
ihe whispered insinuation that the strong affec- 
tion which the first consul manifested for Hor- 
tense was a guilty passion. Napoleon exhib- 



166 JOSEPHINE. 

ited in the most amiable manner his qualities as 
a father, in the frequent correspondence he 
carried on with the two children of Josephine, 
in the interest he took in their studies, and in 
the solicitude he manifested to promote their 
best welfare. He loved Hortense as if she had 
been his own child. Josephine was entirely 
impregnable against any jealousy to be intro- 
duced from that quarter, and a peaceful smile- 
was her only reply to all such insinuations. 
Hortense had also heard, and had utterly dis- 
regarded, these rumors. The marriage of Hor- 
tense to a brother of Napoleon had entirely 
silenced the calumny, and it was soon forgot- 
ten. 

Subsequently, when Hortense had become 
entirely alienated from her husband, and was 
resolved upon a separation, Josephine did every- 
thing in her power to dissuade her from an act 
so rash, so disgraceful, so ruinous to her happi- 
ness. She wrote to her in terms of the most 
earnest entreaty. The self-willed queen, an- 
noyed by these remonstrances, and unable to 
reply to them, ventured to intimate to her 
mother that perhaps she was not entirely disin- 
terested in her opposition. In most guarded 
terms she suggested that her mother had heard 
the groundless accusation of Napoleon^s undue 
fondness, and that it was possible that her 
strong opposition to the separation of Hortense 



DEVELOPMENTS OF CHARACTER. 



167 



from her husband might originate in the fear 
that Hortense might become, in some degree, 
her rival in the affections of Napoleon. Joseph- 
ine very promptly and energetically replied, 

'' You have misunderstood me entirely, my 
child. There is nothing equivocal in my words, 
as there cannot exist an uncandid sentiment in 
my heart. How could you imagine that I could 
participate in opinions so ridiculous and so 
malicious ? No, Hortense, you do not think 
that I believe you to be my rival. We do, in- 
deed, both reign in the same heart, though by 
very different, yet by equally sacred rights. 
And they who, in the affection which my hus- 
band manifests for you, have pretended to dis- 
cover other sentiments than those of a parent 
and a friend, know not his soul. His mind is 
too elevated above that of the vulgar to be ever 
accessible to unworthy passions. The passion of 
glory, if you will, engrosses him too entirely for 
our repose ; but glory, at least, inspires nothing 
which is vile. Such is my profession of faith 
respecting Napoleon. I make this confession 
to you in all sincerity, that I may allay your 
inquietudes. When I recommended you to 
love, or, at least, not to repulse Louis, I spoke 
to you in my character of an experienced wife, 
an attentive mother, and a tender friend, and 
in this threefold relation do I now embrace 
you/' 




CHAPTER X. 



THE COROKATIOISr. 



Early in the year 1802 Josephine accom- 
panied Napoleon in various excursions to dis- 
tant parts of the empire. She went with him 
to Lyons to meet the Italian deputies, who had 
assembled there to confer upon him the dignity 
of President of the Cisalpine Republic. The 
entertainments in Lyons upon this occasion 
were arranged with regal magnificence. Joseph- 
ine, by her grace and affability, secured uni- 
versal admiration, and every tongue was elo- 
quent in her praises. . Each succeeding month 
seemed now to bring some new honor to Joseph- 
ine. Her position as wife of the first consul, 
her known influence over her husband, and the 
almost boundless popularity he had acquired 
over the minds of his countrymen, who were 
ever conducting him by rapid strides to new 
accessions of power, surrounded her with mul- 
titudes striving in every way to ingratiate them- 
selves into her favor. 

From Lyons they returned to their beloved 

168 



THE COROKATION. 169 

retreat at Malmaison, where they passed several 
weeks. But place and power had already de- 
prived them of retirement. Napoleon was en- 
tirely engrossed with his vast projects of ambi- 
tion. The avenne to their rural mansion was 
unceasingly thronged with carriages, and the 
saloon. of Josephine was ever filled with the 
most illustrious guests. 

One day Josephine happened to be in the 
cabinet with her husband alone. A man, 
whose coat was much the worse for wear, and 
whose whole appearance presented many indi- 
cations of the struggle with poverty, was 
ushered into the room. He appeared greatly 
embarrassed, and at length with much con- 
fusion introduced himself as the writing- 
master at Brienne who had taught the first 
consul handwriting. " And a fine penman 
you made of me ! '^ exclaimed Napoleon, in 
affected anger. '' Ask my wife there what she 
thinks of my writing." The poor man stood 
trembling in trepidation, when Josephine 
looked up with one of her sweetest smiles, and 
said, ^' I assure you, sir, his letters are per- 
fectly delightful." Napoleon laughed at the 
well-timed compliment, and settled upon the 
writing-master a small annuity for life. It 
was a noble trait in the character of the first 
consul that in his days of power he was ever 
mindful of those who were the friends of his 

13 — Josephine 



170 JOSEPHINE. 

early years. All the instructors of the school 
he attended at Brienne were thus remembered 
by him. 

Napoleon and Josephine now made the tour 
of the northern provinces of France. They 
were everywhere received with unbounded en- 
thusiasm. The first consul had, indeed, con- 
ferred the greatest blessings on his country. 
He had effectually curbed the Eevolutionary 
fury. He had established the reign of law. 
Thousands of exiles he had restored to their 
homes rejoicing. The discomfited armies of 
France he had led to new and brilliant victo- 
ries. Under his administration every branch 
of business had revived. From every part of 
the empire Napoleon received the most enthu- 
siastic expressions of gratitude and attachment. 
He now began more seriously to contemplate 
ascending the throne of France. Conscious of 
his own power, and ambitious of the glory of 
elevating his country to the highest pinnacle 
of earthly greatness, and witnessing the enthu- 
siasm of admiration which his deeds had ex- 
cited in the public mind, he no longer doubted 
that his countrymen would soon be ready to 
place the scepter of empire in his hands. He 
thought that the pear was now ripe. 

Josephine ever enjoyed most highly accom- 
panying her husband on these tours, and she. 
on such occasions, manifested, in the most at- 



THE CORONATION. 171 

tractive manner, her readiness to sacrifice her 
own personal comfort to promote the happi- 
ness of others. Napoleon was in the habit of 
moving with such rapidity, and of setting out 
so unexpectedly upon these journeys, and he 
was so peremptory in his injunctions as to the 
places where he intended to halt, that often no 
suitable accommodations could be provided for 
Josephine and her attendant ladies. No com- 
plaint, however, was ever heard from her lips. 
No matter how great the embarrassment she 
encountered, she ever exhibited the same im- 
perturbable cheerfulness and good humor. 
She always manifested much more solicitude in 
reference to the accommodation of her attend- 
ants than for her own comfort. She would 
herself visit their apartments, and issue per- 
sonal directions to promote their convenience. 
One night, just as she was about to retire to 
rest, she observed that her waiting-woman had 
but a single mattress, spread upon the floor, 
for her repose. She immediately, with her own 
hands, took from the bed destined for herself 
another mattress, and supplied the deficiency, 
that her waiting-woman might sleep more com- 
fortably. Whenever any of her household were 
sick, Josephine promptly visited their bedside, 
and with her own hands ministered to their 
wants. She would remember them at her own 
table, and from tlje luxurious viands spread out 



172 JOSEPHINE. 

before her, would select delicacies which might 
excite a failing appetite. It often happened, 
in these sudden and hasty journeys, that, from 
want of accommodation, some of the party 
were compelled to remain in the carriages 
while Napoleon and Josephine dined. In such 
cases they were never forgotten. This was not 
policy and artifice on the part of Josephine, 
but the instinctive dictates of a heart over- 
flowing with benevolence. 

On Napoleon's return from this tour he took 
possession of the palace of St. Cloud. This 
was another step toward the throne of the 
Bourbons. This magnificent abode of ancient 
grandeur had been repaired and most gor- 
geously furnished. The versatile French, weary 
of Kepublican simplicity, witnessed with joy 
the indications of a return of regal magnifi- 
cence. A decree also granted to Josephine 
" four ladies, to assist her in doing the honors 
of the palace." No occupant of these splendid 
saloons ever embellished them more richly by 
the display of queenly graces than did Jo- 
sephine ; and Napoleon, now constituted first 
consul for life, reigned with pomp and power 
which none of his predecessors had ever sur- 
passed. The few remaining forms of the Re- 
public rapidly disappeared. Josephine ex- 
erted much influence over her husband's mind 
in inducing him to re-establish the institutions 



THE CORONATION. 173 

of the Christian religion. Napoleon at that 
time did not profess to have any faith in the 
divine origin of Christianity. Infidelity had 
swept resistlessly over France, and nearly every 
man of any note in the camp and in the conrt 
was an unbeliever. He was, consequently, very 
bitterly opposed in all his endeavors to rein- 
state Christianity. One evening he was walk- 
ing upon the terrace of his garden at Mal- 
maison, most earnestly conversing with some 
influential members of the government upon 
this subject. 

'' Religion/' said he, '' is something which 
cannot be eradicated from the heart of man. 
He micst believe in a superior being. Who 
made all that ? "* he continued, pointing to the 
stars brilliantly shining in the evening sky. 
*^ Last Sunday evening I was walking here 
alone, when the church bells of the village of 
Ruel rang at sunset. I was strongly moved, so 
vividly did the image of early days come back 
with that sound. If it be thus with me, what 
must it be with others ? Let your philosophers 
answer that, if they can. It is absolutely in- 
dispensable to have a religion for the people. 
In re-establishing Christianity, I consult the 
wishes of a great majority of the French 
nation." 

Josephine probably had very little religious 
knowledge. She regarded Christianity as a 



174 JOSEPHINE. 

sentiment rather than a principle. She felt 
the poetic beauty of its revelations and its ordi- 
nances. She knew how holy were its charities, 
how pure its precepts, how ennobling its in- 
fluences, even when encumbered with the 
grossest superstitions. She had seen, and 
dreadfully had she felt, what France was with- 
out religion — with marriage a mockery, con- 
cience a phantom, and death proclaimed to all 
an eternal sleep. She therefore most warmly 
seconded her husband in all endeavors to re- 
store again to desolated France the religion of 
Jesus Christ. 

The next morning after the issuing of the 
proclamation announcing the re-establishment 
of public worship, a grand religious ceremony 
took place in honor of the occasion in the 
church of Notre Dame. Napoleon, to produce 
a deep impression upon the public mind, in- 
vested the occasion with all possible pomp. 
As he was preparing to go to the Cathedral, 
one of his colleagues, Cambaceres, entered the 
room. 

**Well,'' said the first consul, rubbing his 
hands in fine spirits, '' we go to church this 
morning ; what say they to that in Paris ? " 

"Many people," replied Cambaceres, ''pro- 
pose to attend the first representation in order 
to hiss the piece, should they not find it amus- 



THE CORONATION. 175 

*^ If any one takes it into his head to hiss, I 
shall put him out of the door by the grenadiers 
of the consular guard." 

*^ But what if the grenadiers themselves take 
to hissing like the rest ? " 

''As to that, I have no fear. My old mus- 
taches will go here to Notre Dame just as at 
Cairo they would have gone to the mosque. 
They will remark how I do, and seeing their 
general grave and decent, they will be so too, 
passing the watchword to each other, Decency ! " 

In the noble proclamation which the first 
consul issued upon this great event, he says, 
" An insane policy has sought, during the Eev- 
olution, to smother religious dissensions under 
the ruins of the altar, under the ashes of relig- 
ion itself. At its voice all those pious solemni- 
ties ceased in which the citizens called each 
other by the endearing name of brothers, and 
acknowledged their common equality in the 
sight of Heaven. The dying, left alone in his 
agonies, no longer heard that consoling voice 
which calls the Christian to a better world. 
God himself seemed exiled from the face of na- 
ture. Ministers of the religion of peace ! let a 
complete oblivion veil over your dissensions, 
your misfortunes, your faults. Let the religion 
which unites you bind you by indissoluble cords 
to the interests of your country. Citizens of 
the Protestant faith ! the law has equally ex- 



176 JOSEPHINE. 

tended its solicitude to your interests. Let the 
morality, so pure, so holy, so brotherly, which 
you profess, unite you all in love to your coun- 
try and respect for its laws ; and, above all, 
never permit disputes on doctrinal points to 
weaken that universal charity which religion 
at once inculcates and commands." 

This, surely, is a great triumph of Christian- 
ity. A man like Napoleon, even though not at 
the time a believer in its divine origin, was so 
perfectly satisfied of its beneficial influence upon 
mankind, that, as a matter of state policy, he 
felt compelled to reinstate its observances. 

Josephine cherished emotions of the deepest 
gratitude toward all those who had proved 
friendly to her in the days of her adversity. 
Napoleon, with his strong prejudices, often took 
a dislike to those whom Josephine loved. Ma- 
dame Tallien, the companion of Josephine in 
her captivity and her benefactor after her re- 
lease, was, for some unknown reason, peculiarly 
obnoxious to Napoleon. She was extremely 
beautiful and very ambitious, and her exclusion 
from the splendors of the new court, now daily 
becoming more brilliant, mortified her exceed- 
ingly. Josephine also was greatly troubled. 
She could not disregard the will of her husband, 
and her heart recoiled from the thought of in- 
gratitude toward one who had been her friend 
in adversity. At this time, in Paris, pleasure 



THE CORONATION. 177 

seemed to be the universal object of pursuit. 
All the restraints of religion had been swept 
away, and masked balls, gambling, and every 
species of dissipation attracted to the metropo- 
lis the wealthy and the dissolute from all parts 
of Europe. Napoleon never made his appear- 
ance in any of these reckless scenes of revelry. 
He ever was an inveterate enemy to gambling 
in all its forms, and had no relish for luxurious 
indulgence. Josephine, however, accompanied 
by Eugene, occasionally looked in upon the 
dancers at the masked balls. On one of these 
occasions a noble lady witnessed an incident 
which she has recorded in the following words : 
'^ Chance rendered me witness of a singular 
scene at one of these balls. It was near two 
o'clock in the morning, the crowd immense, 
and the heat overpowering. I had ascended 
for a few moments to the apartments above, 
and refreshed by the cool air, was about to de- 
scend, when the sound of voices in the adjoining 
room, in earnest conversation, caught my at- 
tention. Applying my ear to the partition, the 
name of Bonaparte, and the discovery that Jo- 
sephine and Madame Tallien were the speak- 
ers, excited a real curiosity. *' I assure you, 
my dear Theresina," said Josephine, '' that I 
have done all that friendship could dictate, but 
in vain. No later than this morning I made a 
new effort. Bonaparte would hear of nothing. 



178 JOSEPHINE. 

I cannot comprehend what can have prejudiced 
him so strongly against yoa. You are the only 
woman whose name he has effaced from the list 
of my particular friends ; and from fear lest he 
should manifest his displeasure directly against 
us have I now come hither alone with my son. 
At this moment they believe me sound asleep 
in my bed at the Tuilleries ; but I determined 
on coming to see, to warn, and to console you, 
and, above all, to justify myself. ''' 

'' My dear Josephine," Madame Tallien re- 
plied, '* I have never doubted either the good- 
ness of your heart or the sincerity of your affec- 
tion. Heaven is my witness that the loss of 
your friendship would be to me much more 
painful than any dread of Bonaparte. In these 
difficult times, I have maintained a conduct 
that might, perhaps, render my visit an honor, 
but I will never importune you to receive me 
without his consent. He was not consul when 
Tallien followed him into Egypt, when I re- 
ceived you both into my house, when I shared 

with you " Here she burst into tears, and 

her voice became inaudible. 

'' Calm yourself, my dear Theresina," Jo- 
sephine rejoined ; *'be calm, and let the storm 
pass. I am paving the way for a reconciliation, 
but we must not irritate him more. You 
know that he does not love Ouvrard, and it is 
said that he often sees you." 



THE COEOKATION. 179 

" What, then/' Madame Tallien replied, 
''because he governs France, does lie expect to 
tyrannize over our hearts ? Must we sacrifice 
to him our private friendships ? " 

At that moment some one knocked at the 
door, and Eugene Beauharnais entered. ''Ma- 
dame/' said he to his mother, " you have been 
now more than an hour absent. The council 
of ministers is perhaps over. What will the 
first consul say, should he not find you on his 
return ? " The two ladies then, arm in arm, 
descended the stairs, conversing in earnest whis- 
pers, followed by Eugene. 

This Ouvrard, to whom allusion is made 
above, was a famous banker in Paris, of enor- 
mous wealth, and engaged in the most wild 
and extravagant speculations. 

It now began to be rumored that Napoleon 
would soon be crowned as king. Very many of 
the nation desired it, and though there was as 
yet no public declaration, vague hints and 
floating rumors filled the air. Josephine was 
greatly disquieted. It seemed more and more 
important that Napoleon should have an heir. 
There was now no prospect that Josephine 
would ever become again a mother. She heard, 
with irrepressible anguish, that it had been 
urged upon her husband that the interests of 
France required that he should obtain a divorce 
and marry again ; that alliance with one of the 



180 JOSEPHINE. 

ancient royal families of Europe, and the birth 
of a son, to whom he could transmit his crown, 
would place his power upon an impregnable 
foundation. Josephine could not but perceive 
the apparent policy of the great wrong. And 
though she knew that Napoleon truly and 
tenderly loved her, she also feared that there 
was no sacrifice which he was not ready to 
make in obedience to the claims of his towering 
ambition. 

One day she softly entered the cabinet with- 
out being announced. Bonaparte and Bour- 
rienne were conversing together. The day 
before, an article appeared in the Moniteur, 
evidently preparing the way for the throne. 
Josephine gently approached her husband, sat 
down upon his knee, affectionately passed her 
hand through his hair and over his face, and, 
with moistened eyes and a burst of tenderness, 
exclaimed, '' I entreat you, mon ami, do not 
make yourself a king. It is Lucien who urges 
you to it. Do not even listen to him." 

Bonaparte, smiling very pleasantly, replied, 
*'Why, my dear Josephine, you are crazy. 
You must not listen to these tales of the old 
dowagers. But you interrupt us now. I am 
very busy.^' 

During the earlier period of Napoleon's con- 
sulship, like the humblest citizen, he occupied 
the same bed-chamber with his spouse. But 



THE CORONATION. 181 

now that more of regal ceremony and state was 
being introduced to the consular establishment, 
their domestic intercourse, to the great grief 
of Josephine, assumed more of cold formality. 
Separate apartments were assigned to Josephine 
at a considerable distance from those occupied 
by her husband, and it was necessary to traverse 
a long corridor to pass from one to the other. 
The chambers of the principal ladies of the court 
opened upon this corridor from the right and 
the left. The splendor with which Josephine^s 
rooms were furnished was no compensation to 
her for the absence of that affectionate familiar- 
ity for which her heart ever yearned. She also 
suspected, with anguish, that this separation 
was but the prelude of the divorce she so fear- 
fully apprehended. Whenever Napoleon passed 
the night in the apartment of Josephine, it 
was known to the whole household. Josephine, 
at such times, always appeared at a later hour in 
the morning than usual, for they generally 
passed half the night in conversation. 

'' I think I see her still,'' writes one of the 
ladies of her household, '' coming in to break- 
fast, looking quite cheerful, rubbing her little 
hands, as she was accustomed to do when 
peculiarly happy, and apologizing for having 
risen so late. On such occasions she was, if 
possible, more gracious than usual, refused no- 
body, and we were sure of obtaining every- 



182 JOSEPHINE. 

thing we asked, as I have myself many times 
experienced." 

The Bourbons had been for some time in cor- 
respondence with Napoleon, hoping, through 
his agency, to regain the throne. He assured 
them that their restoration could not possibly 
be accomplished, even by the sacrifice of the 
lives of a million of Frenchmen. Josephine, 
who had suffered so much from anarchy, was a 
decided Royalist, and she exerted all her powers 
to induce Napoleon to make the attempt to 
reinstate the Bourbons. When her friends 
congratulated her upon the probability that 
she would soon be Empress of France, with 
heartfelt sincerity she replied, '' To be the wife 
of the first consul fulfils my highest ambi- 
tion. Let me remain so." The Bourbons ex- 
pressed much gratitude at the time in view of 
Josephine's known intercessions in their be- 
half. 

About this time a serious accident happened 
to the first consul, which also exposed Jo- 
sephine to much danger. The inhabitants of 
Antwerp had made Napoleon a present of six 
magnificent bay horses. With four of these 
spirited steeds harnessed to the carriage, Napo- 
leon was one day taking an airing, with Jo- 
sephine and Cambaceres, the second consul, in 
the park. Napoleon, taking a fancy to drive 
four in hand, mounted the coach-box, and Cae- 



THE CORONATION. 188 

sar, his favorite coachman, was stationed be- 
hind. The horses soon discovered that they 
had a new and inexperienced driver, and 
started off at the top of their speed. Napoleon 
lost all control over them, and the frightened 
animals, perfectly ungovernable, dashed along 
the road at a fearful rate. Csesar kept shout- 
ing to Napoleon, " Keep in the middle ! " 
Cambaceres, pale with fright, thrust his head 
out of the window, and shouted '' Whoa ! 
whoa ! " Josephine, greatly alarmed, sank 
back in her seat, and in silent resignation 
awaited the issue. As they approached the 
avenue to St. Cloud, the imperial driver had 
not sufficient skill to guide them safely through 
the gateway. The coach struck against one of 
the pillars, and was overturned with a terrible 
crash. Josephine and Cambaceres were consid- 
erably bruised. Napoleon was thrown from his 
seat to the distance of eight or ten paces, and 
was taken up insensible. He, however, soon 
recovered. On retiring at night, they amused 
themselves in talking over the misadventure. 
'' Mon ami," said Josephine, laughing, "you 
must render unto Caesar the things that be 
Csesar^s. Let him keep his whip. Each to his 
vocation." The conversation was continued 
for some time in a tone of pleasantry. Gradu- 
ally Napoleon became more serious. He 
seemed to be reflecting deeply, and said 

3^4— Josephine 



184 JOSEPHINE. 

that he never before came so near to death. 
*^ Indeed/^ said he, '' I was for some moments 
virtually dead. But what is death ? It is 
merely a sleep without dreams. '^ 

Such were probably, at this time, the views 
of Napoleon upon immortality. He subse- 
quently professed himself a sincere believer in 
the divine origin of Christianity, and wished to 
die within the pale of the Christian Church. 
That mind which can contemplate death with 
levity must be either exceedingly weak or 
hopelessly deranged. 

While nearly all who surrounded the first 
consul were contemplating with the utmost sat- 
isfaction his approaching elevation to the 
throne, the subject awakened in the bosom of 
Josephine the most agitating emotions. She 
saw in the splendor of the throne peril to her 
husband, and the risk of entire downfall to her- 
self. '^ The real enemies of Bonaparte," said 
she to Eoederer, ''are those who put into his 
head ideas of hereditary succession, dynasty, 
divorce, and marriage." Again she is repre- 
sented as saying, ' ' I do not approve the pro- 
jects of Napoleon. I have often told him so. 
He hears me with attention, but I can plainly 
see that I make no impression. The flatterers 
who surround him soon obliterate all that I 
have said. The new honors which he will ac- 
quire will augment the number of his enemies. 



THE CORONATION. 185 

The generals will exclaim that they have not 
fought so long merely to substitute the family 
of the Bonapartes for that of the Bourbons." 

The peace ratified by the treaty of Amiens 
in 1802 threw open the Continent to travelers 
from England. There were thousands in that 
country who were great admirers of Napoleon. 
The Tuilleries, St. Cloud, and Malmaison wer? 
consequently ever thronged with illustrious 
strangers from the island with which France 
had so long been engaged in war. The cele- 
brated statesman, Mr. Fox, with Lord and 
Lady Holland, Lord Erskine, and several others 
of the most distinguished of the English nobil- 
ity, were visiting Paris, and one morning were 
at a breakfast party at Madame Recamier's. 
Breakfast was nearly concluded, when the 
sounds of a horseman galloping into the court- 
yard were heard. Eugene Beauharnais was 
immediately after announced. After a few 
words of regret expressed to the lady of the 
house for having arrived so late, he turned to 
Mr. Fox and said, ''1 hope, sir, soon to indem- 
nify myself for the loss of your society which I 
have this morning sustained. I am commis- 
sioned by my mother to attend you to Mal- 
maison. The carriages will be here in a few 
moments which are for the accommodation of 
you and your friends, when you can resolve on 
leaving so many charms as must detain you 



186 JOSEPHIKB. 

here. I shall, witrh much pleasure, act as your 
guide/' 

The carriages of the first consul soon arrived, 
and the whole party proceeded to Malmaison. 
Josephine received her guests with that cour- 
tesy and refined cordiality in which she was 
unrivaled. Bonaparte, knowing the powerful 
influence of the illustrious English statesman, 
was very desirous that he should receive a fa- 
vorable impression from his visit. It required 
but little effort on the part of Josephine to 
excel in the art of pleasing. She banished all 
parade, and received her guests as family 
friends. The day was spent at Malmaison, and 
Mr. Fox afterward stated that he retired from 
the visit enchanted with the elegance and grace 
of all that he saw and heard. 

Ten years had passed, during which Prance 
had been in a state of constant warfare. The 
short peace which succeeded the treaty of 
Amiens filled Paris with the best society of 
Europe. Extravagance and dissipation reigned 
in the metropolis. But in those scenes of dis- 
sipation neither Napoleon nor Josephine ever 
made their appearance. His mind was ever 
engrossed with the magnificent plans he was 
forming and the deeds he was achieving. Jo- 
sephine was equally engaged in watching over 
the interests of her husband, and in gaining 
and confirming friends to his cause. 



THE CORONATION. 187 

On the 18th of May, 1804, by a degree of the 
senate. Napoleon was declared Emperor of 
France. The decree was sent out to the vari- 
ous departments for the action of the people. 
The result was, that 3,572,329 voted in the 
aflarmative, while but 2569 were in the negative. 
A more unanimous expression of a nation's will 
history never has recorded. The day after 
his elevation to the imperial throne, the em- 
peror held a grand levee at the Tuilleries, and 
Josephine, with many fears darkening this hour 
of exultation, made her first appearance as the 
Empress of France. The decree announcing 
Napoleon Bonaparte to be the emperor of 
France also declared that the imperial dignity 
should be hereditary in his family. The em- 
press struggled against her fears, but her heart 
was heavy, and she found but little joy upon 
this high pinnacle of power. She also plainly 
foresaw that the throne of her husband, appar- 
ently so gorgeous and massive, was erected 
upon a very frail foundation. 

At the grand levee held upon this occasion, 
the assembly was the most brilliant and numer- 
ous that had ever yet been witnessed in Paris. 
The renown of Napoleon now filled the world, 
and noted men from every land thronged his 
saloons. Josephine found herself elevated to 
the position of the most illustrious of the queens 
of Europe. The power of her husband wa§ 



188 JOSEPHINE. 

superior to that of any of the surrounding mon- 
archs, and she received the homage of all as 
occupying an elevation such as no queen had 
ever attained before. 

The second of December, 1804, was ap- 
pointed for the ceremony of coronation. The 
pageant was to take place in the church of 
Notre Dame. The Pope came from Rome to 
place the crown upon this lofty, though ple- 
beian brow. For ten centuries such an honor 
had not been conferred upon any monarch. 
The day was clear and brilliant, but intensely 
cold. The venerable walls of Notre Dame had 
never before witnessed such luxury and such 
magnificence as was now displayed. Car- 
riages glittering with gold and purple trap- 
pings ; horses proudly caparisoned ; officers in 
the richest uniforms, and in court dresses 
sumptuously embroidered ; servants in most 
gorgeous liveries ; and a waving sea of ostrich 
plumes, bewildered the multitude with the un- 
wonted splendor. 

The empress appeared in a robe of white 
satin, embroidered with gold, and profusely 
ornamented with diamonds. A mantle of 
crimson velvet, lined with white satin and 
ermine, floated over her shoulders, and golden 
bees were clustered over the dress. The cor- 
onation jewels consisted of a crown, a diadem, 
and a girdle. The coronation crown consisted 



THE CORONATION. 189 

of eight golden branches, four in imitation of 
palm, and four of myrtle leaves. The dew- 
drops glittering upon this foliage were brilliant 
diamonds. A golden-corded band surrounded 
the crown, embellished with eight very large 
emeralds. The bandeau inclosing the head 
glittered resplendent with amethysts. This 
was the coronation crown, which was used only 
upon state occasions. The diadem, which was 
for more ordinary service, was composed of four 
rows of pearls interlaced with diamonds. In 
front were several very large brilliants, one of 
which weighed one hundred and forty-nine 
grains. The ceinture or girdle was of pure 
gold, so pure as to be quite elastic, embellished 
with thirty-nine rose-colored diamonds. 

Napoleon wore a close dress of white velvet, 
embroidered in gold, with diamond buttons. 
His stockings were of white silk. The robe 
and mantle were of crimson velvet, richly em- 
broidered in gold and embellished with dia- 
monds. Napoleon seemed to regret the vast 
expense attending this display, while at the 
same time he was conscious of its importance 
to impress the minds of the Parisians. The 
emperor was profuse in expenditure to promote 
the grandeur and glory of the nation, but very 
frugal in his personal expenses. 

The imperial carriage, constructed expressly 
for the occasion, was the most exquisite piece 



190 JOSEPHINE. 

of workmanship Parisian ingenuity could de- 
vise. It was drawn by eight bay horses. The 
paneling was entirely of glass. As the em- 
peror and empress entered the carriage, they 
both, by mistake, sat down with their backs 
toward the horses. Josephine, immediately 
perceiving the error, lightly changed her seat, 
at the same time saying smilingly to her hus- 
band, as she pointed to the rich cushion at her 
side, " Mon ami ! unless you prefer riding vis- 
a-vis, this is your seat." Napoleon laughed 
heartily at the blunder, and changed his seat. 
Double files of infantry lined the route of more 
than a mile and a half, extending from the 
Tuilleries to N6tre Dame. Ten thousand 
horsemen, in most gorgeous uniforms, attended 
the carriages. Half a million of spectators 
thronged the way, crowding the windows and 
balconies, clustered upon the house-tops, and 
filling up every space from whence any view of 
the cortege could be gained. The air was filled 
with the martial strains of a thousand bands, 
with the thunders of innumerable pieces of 
artillery, and with the enthusiastic acclama- 
tions of the vast multitude. A pageant more 
sublime this world perhaps has never wit- 
nessed. 

The throne, which was hung with crimson 
velvet, was overarched with a canopy of the 
same rich material. It was ascended by twenty- 



THE CORONATION. 191 

two circular jsteps, which were covered with 
blue cloth, studded with golden bees. The 
most illustrious officers of the empire crowded 
the stairs. Napoleon and Josephine sat, side 
by side, upon the throne. The religious cere- 
mony occupied nearly four hours. It was in- 
terspersed with the most soul-stirring music 
from martial bands and from more than three 
hundred vocal performers. When the Pope was 
about to place the crown upon the brow of the 
emperor, Napoleon took it from him, and 
placed it, with his own hands, upon his head. 
He then took it off and crowned the empress, 
also with his own hands, fixing his eye 
proudly, yet most tenderly, upon her. The 
heavy crown was soon after laid upon a 
cushion, while a smaller diadem was placed 
upon the head of Josephine. She kneeled be- 
fore her illustrious consort as he placed the 
crown of France upon her brow. After re- 
maining for a moment in silence in the pos- 
ture of prayer, with her hands folded over her 
bosom, she then gracefully rose, her eyes 
swimming in tears, and turned to her husband 
with a look of gratitude and of love which the 
emperor feelingly recognized. It was a touch- 
ing scene, and in that moment were clustered 
the memories of years. 

But the day was not without its moments of 
anguish for Josephine, In the brief speech 



192 JOSEPHINE. 

whicli the emperor made upon the occasion, he 
said, " My descendants will long sit upon this 
throne." These words were as a dagger to the 
heart of the empress. She knew Napoleon's 
intense desire for an heir. She knew how 
strong the desire in France was that he should 
have a son to whom to transmit his throne. 
She knew how much had been said respecting 
the necessity of a divorce. The most infamous 
proposals had been urged upon her by pre- 
tended friends, even by one of the brothers of 
Napoleon, that she might by unfaithfulness to 
him, obviate the necessity of Napoleon's seek- 
ing another bride. This sentiment, uttered 
upon the day of coronation, filled her heart 
with fear and anguish. 

The shades of evening had fallen upon the 
swarming city, and all the streets of the me- 
tropolis and the broad fa9ade of the Tuilleries 
were glittering with illuminations when the 
emperor and empress returned to the palace. 
Josephine, overcome with the conflicting emo- 
tions which the day had excited, retired to 
her apartment, and, falling upon her knees, 
with tears implored the guidance of the King 
of kings. Napoleon hastened to his room, ex- 
claiming impatiently to an attendant as he en- 
tered, " Off, off with these confounded trap- 
pings ! " He threw the mantle into one corner 
of the room, and the gorgeous robe into ajj- 




Josephine facep i9~ 



The Coronation of Josephine. 



THE CORONATION. 193 

other, and, tlms violently disencumbering him- 
self, declared that hours of such mortal tedi- 
Gusness he had never encountered before. 

Josephine, in her remonstrances with Napo- 
leon against assuming the crown, predicted, 
with almost prophetic accuracy, the conse- 
quences which would ensue. ^' Will not your 
power,^' she wrote to him, ''^opposed, as to a 
certainty it must be, by the neighboring states, 
draw you into a war with them ? This will 
probably end in their ruin. Will not their 
neighbors, beholding these effects, combine for 
your destruction ? While abroad such is the 
state of things, at home how numerous the en- 
vious and discontented ! How many plots to dis- 
concert, and how many conspiracies to punish." 

Soon after the coronation, Josephine was one 
morning in her garden, when an intimate friend 
called to see her. She saluted the empress by 
the title of Your Majesty. " Ah ! " she ex- 
claimed, in tones deeply pathetic, '^I entreat 
that you will suffer me, at least here, to forget 
that I am an empress." It is the unvarying 
testimony of her friends, that, while she was 
receiving with surpassing gracefulness the con- 
gratulations of France and of Europe, her heart 
was heavy. She clearly foresaw the peril of 
their position, and trembled in view of an ap- 
proaching downfall. The many formal cere- 
monies which her station required, and upon 



194 JOSEPHINE. 

which Napoleon laid great stress, were exceed- 
ingly irksome to one whose warm heart rejoiced 
in the familiarity of unrestrained friendship. 
She thus described her feelings : " The nearer 
my husband approached the summit of earthly 
greatness, the more dim became my last gleams 
of happiness. It is true that I enjoyed a mag- 
nificent existence. My court was composed of 
gentlemen and ladies the most illustrious in 
rank, all of whom were emulous of the honor 
of being presented to me. But my time was 
no longer at my command. The emperor was 
receiving from every part of France congratula- 
tions upon his accession to the throne, while I 
myself sighed in contemplating the immense 
power he had acquired. The more I saw him 
loaded with the gifts of fortune, the more I 
feared his fall.'* 

The court of France had for ages been the 
scene of the most voluptuous and unblushing 
vice. The whole nation had been corrupted by 
its influence. Dissipation had been rendered 
attractive by the grace with which it had been 
robed. The dissolute manners which had pre- 
vailed at Versailles, The Tuilleries, and St. 
Cloud no pen can describe. Napoleon deter- 
mined that, at all hazards, his court should be 
reputable at least in outward morality. He 
was more scrupulous upon this point even than 
Josephine herself. Believing that the downfall 



THE CORONATION. 195 

of the Bourbons was caused, in no inconsider- 
able degree, by the dissolute lives of the nobles 
and the courtiers, he would give no one an ap- 
pointment among the royal retinue whose char- 
acter was not, in his judgment, above reproach. 

The Duchess d'Aiguillon had been a fellow- 
captive of Josephine, and, after their liberation 
from prison, had greatly befriended her. Dur- 
ing the license of those times, in which all the 
restraints of Christian morality had been swept 
away, her character had not remained perfectly 
spotless. She and her husband had availed 
themselves of the facile liberty of divorce which 
the laws had encouraged, and had formed other 
unions. Josephine felt grateful for the many 
favors she had received from the duchess, and 
wished to testify this gratitude by receiving her 
at court. Napoleon peremptorily refused. Jo- 
sephine wrote to her in the following terms : 

"My dear Friend, — I am deeply afflicted. 
My former friends, supposing that I am able to 
obtain the fulfilment of all my wishes, must 
suppose that I have forgotten the past. Alas ! 
it is not so. I remember it too well, and my 
thoughts dwell upon it more than I would have 
them. The more I think of what my friends 
did for me, the greater is my sorrow at being 
unable to do now what my heart dictates. The 
Empress of France is but the first slave in the 
empire, and cannot pay the debts of Madame 



196 JOSEPHINE. 

de Beauharnais. This constitutes the torture 
of my life, and will explain why you do not oc- 
cupy a place near me. The emperor, indignant 
at the total disregard of morality, and alarmed 
at the progress it might still make, is resolved 
that the example of a life of regularity and of 
religion shall be presented in the palace where 
he reigns. Desirous of strengthening more and 
more the Church re-established by himself, and 
unable to change the laws appointed by her ob- 
servances, his intention is, at least, to keep at 
a distance from his court all who may have 
availed themselves of the opportunity for a di- 
vorce. Hence the cause of his refusing the 
favor I asked of having you with me. The 
refusal has occasioned me unspeakable regret, 
but he is too absolute to leave even the hope of 
seeing him retract. I am thus constrained to 
renounce the pleasure I had promised myself 
of being constantly with you, studying to make 
you forget the sovereign in the friend. Pity 
my lot in being too public a personage to follow 
my own inclination, and cherish for me a friend- 
ship, the remembrance of which gives me now 
so much pleasure as its reality afforded conso- 
lation in prison. Often do I regret that small, 
dark, and dismal chamber which we shared to- 
gether, for there, at least, I could pour out my 
whole heart, and was sincerely beloved in re- 
turn," 




CHAPTER XL 



JOSEPHINE Aiq- EMPRESS. 



DuRiJTG the whole month succeeding the 
coronation, Paris was surrendered to fetes, 
illuminations, and all manner of public rejoic- 
ing. One morning the empress found in her 
apartment, as a present from the municipality 
of the capital, a toilet service, with table, ewer, 
and basin of massive gold, wrought with most 
exquisite workmanship. An enormous balloon, 
in the form of the imperial crown, brilliantly 
illuminated was launched, the evening of the 
coronation, from Paris. The vast structure, 
weighing five hundred pounds, floated most 
majestically over the city, for a time the object 
of the gaze of a million of eyes, till, borne away 
by the wind toward the south, it disappeared. 
The next evening it fell near the city of Rome, 
nine hundred miles from Paris. '' Sire,'' said 
a courtier, announcing the fact to Napoleon, 
" your imperial crown has appeared in the two 
great capitals of the world within the space of 
twenty-four hours." 



15— Jo»ei)Uii 



197 



198 JOSEPHINE. 

As soon as Napoleon was crowned Emperor 
of France, the senators of the Italian Republic, 
over which he had been elected president, sent 
an earnest petition that he would be crowned 
their king at Milan. Napoleon had rescued 
them from the hated dominion of the Austrians, 
and they regarded him as their greatest bene- 
factor. The emperor was in the habit of set- 
ting out on his various tours without any warn- 
ing. One evening, when the festivities of the 
baptism of the second son of Hortense had been 
kept up until midnight, Napoleon said quietly, 
upon retiring, *^ Horses at six for Italy.'' Jo- 
sephine accompanied her husband upon this 
tour. The road bridging the Alps, which Napo- 
leon subsequently constructed, was then but 
contemplated. It was only by a rugged and dan- 
gerous footpath that the ascent of these awful 
barriers of nature could be surmounted. Two 
beautiful sedans had been constructed in Turin 
for the emperor and empress. The one for Na- 
poleon was lined with crimson silk, richly orna- 
mented with gold. Josephine's was trimmed 
with blue satin, similarly ornamented with sil- 
ver. The sedans were, however, but little used, 
except in places where walking was dangerous, 
as the empress very much preferred leaning 
upon the arm of her husband, and, in conver- 
sation with him, gazing uponthewild sublimi- 
ties with which they were surrounded. This 



JOSEPHINE AN EMPRESS. 199 

must have been to Josephine, independently 
of those inward anxieties which weighed so 
heavily upon her heart, as delightful a journey 
as a mortal can enjoy. All Europe was bowing 
in homage before her illustrious husband. He 
was in the possession of power such as the 
proudest of the Caesars might have envied. 
Illuminations, and triumphal arches, and en- 
thusiastic acclamations met them every step of 
their way. Josephine was in the possession of 
every possible acquisition earth could give to 
make her happy, save only one — her husband 
was not a father. But Josephine forgot her so- 
licitudes in the exultant hours when her hus- 
band, from the pinnacles of the Alps, pointed 
out to her the glories of sunny Italy — the scenes 
of past perils, and conflict, and renown — the 
fields in which he had led the armies of France 
to the most brilliant victories. Napoleon was 
in fine spirits, and in these gilded hours he 
looked lovingly upon her, and they both were 
truly happy. It is difficult for the imagination 
to conceive anything more attractive for a 
warm-hearted and an enthusiastic woman than 
to pass over these most sublime of the barriers 
of nature, with Napoleon for a guide and a con- 
fiding friend. Pope Pius VII., who had formed 
a very strong friendship for Josephine, accom- 
panied them, as far as Turin. When parting, 
the empress made him a present of a beautiful 



200 JOSEPHINE. 

vase of Sevres china, embellished with exquisite 
paintings of the coronation. 

From Turin Napoleon took Josephine to the 
field of Marengo. He had assembled upon that 
great battle plain, which his victory has immor- 
talized, thirty thousand troops^ that Josephine 
might behold, in the mimicry of war, the dread- 
ful scenes which had deluged those fields in 
blood. It was the fifth of May, and a bright 
Italian sun shone down upon the magnificent 
pageant. A vast elevation was constructed in 
the middle of the plain, from which, seated 
upon a lofty throne, the emperor and empress 
overlooked the whole field. Napoleon deco-" 
rated himself upon the- occasion with the same 
war-worn garments — the battered hat, the tem- 
pest-torn cloak, the coat of faded blue, and the 
long cavalry saber which he had worn amid 
the carnage and the terror of that awful day. 
Many of tlie veterans who had been engaged 
in the action were present. Napoleon and 
Josephine came upon the ground in a magnifi- 
cent chariot, drawn by eight horses. The mo- 
ment he appeared upon the plain, one general 
shout of acclamation from thirty thousand 
adoring voices rent the sky. After the mimic 
battle was ended, the soldiers defiled before 
the emperor and empress, while he conferred, 
upon those who had signalized themselves in 
the day of Marengo, the decorations of the 



JOSEPHINE AN EMPRESS. 201 

Legion of Honor. The gorgeous uniform of 
the men, the rich caparisons and proud bear- 
ing of the horses, the clangor of innumerable 
trumpets and martial bands, the glitter of gold 
and steel, the deafening thunders of artillery 
and musketry, filling the air with one incessant 
and terrific war ; the dense volumes of sul- 
phurous smoke rolling heavily over the plain, 
shutting out the rays of an unclouded sun, all 
combined to produce an effect upon the spec- 
tators never to be effaced. 

On the eighth of May, 1805, they made their 
triumphal entry into the city of Milan. While 
the whole city was absorbed in those fetes and 
rejoicings which preceded the coronation, the 
inexhaustible mind of Napoleon was occupied 
in planning those splendid public buildings and 
those magnificent improvements which still 
commemorate the almost superhuman energy 
of his reign. The iron crown of Charlemagne, 
which for a thousand years had pressed no 
brow, was brought forth from its mausoleum 
to add the attraction of deep poetic sentiment 
to the coronation. The ceremony took place 
on the twenty-sixth of May, in the Cathedral 
of Milan. The coronation was conducted with 
magnificence not even surpassed by the cere- 
mony in Notre Dame. The empress first made 
her appearance, most gorgeously dressed, and 
glittering wich diamonds. She was personally 



202 JOSEPHINE. 

loved by the Milanese, and was greeted with 
the most enthusiastic acclamations. A mo- 
ment after, the emperor himself entered, by 
another door. He was arrayed in imperial 
robes of velvet, purple, and gold, with the dia- 
dem upon his brow, and the iron crown and 
scepter of Charlemagne in his hands. Napo- 
leon, as in the coronation at Paris, refused to 
receive the crown from the hands of another, 
but placed it himself upon his head, repeating 
aloud the historical words, '^ God has given it 
to me ; woe to him who touches it.'^ Josephine 
then knelt upon an altar at his feet, and was 
again crowned by her husband. 

Josephine remained with the emperor in Mi- 
lan for nearly a month. He was busy night 
and day in commencing improvements of the 
most majestic character. The Italians still look 
back to the reign of Napoleon as the brightest 
period in their history. The gay Milanese 
surrendered themselves, during his stay, to 
one continual scene of festivity. One day Jo- 
sephine and Napoleon had broken away from 
courtiers and palaces, and all the pageantry of 
state, and had retreated for a few hours to the 
retirement and solitude of a beautiful little 
island in one of the lakes in that vicinity. They 
entered the cabin of a poor woman. She had 
no idea of the illustrious character of her guests, 
and, in answer to their kind inquiries, opened 



JOSEPHINE AN EMPRESS. 203 

to them the story of her penury, her toils, and 
her anxiety to bring up her three children, as 
the father often could obtain no work. *' Now 
how much money, my good woman,^^ inquired 
Napoleon, '^ would you like to have to make 
you perfectly happy?" ''Ah! sir," she re- 
plied, '' a great deal of money I should want." 
" But how much should you desire if you could 
have your wish." '' Oh, sir, I should want as 
much as twenty louis (about eighty dollars) ; 
but what prospect is there of our ever having 
twenty louis ? " The emperor poured into her 
lap three thousand francs (about six hundred 
dollars) in glittering gold. For a few moments 
she was speechless in bewilderment ; at length, 
trembling with emotion, she said, '' Ah ! sir — 
ah ! madam, this is a great deal too much. 
And yet you do not look as if you could sport 
with the feelings of a poor woman." '' No !" 
Josephine replied, in the most gentle accents. 
'' The money is all yours. With it you can now 
rent a piece of ground, purchase a flock of goats, 
and I hope you will be able to bring up your 
children comfortably." 

From Milan the emperor and empress con- 
tinued their tour to Genoa. The restless mind 
of Napoleon was weary even of the swiftest 
speed of the horses, and though they drove from 
post to post with the utmost possible rapidity, 
so that it was necessary continually to throw 



204 JOSEPHINE. 

water npon the glowing axle, he kept calling 
from his carriage,- '' On ! on ! we do not go fast 
enough." Their reception at Genoa was nn- 
equaled by anything they had before witnessed. 
In the beautiful bay a floating garden of t)range- 
trees and rare plants and shrubbery was con- 
structed in honor of Josephine. In the princi- 
pal church of *^ Genoa the Superb/' the em- 
peror and empress received the allegiance of 
the most prominent inhabitants. The fetes on 
this occasion almost surpassed the creations of 
fancy. The senses were bewildered by the 
fairy illusions thrown around the gorgeous 
spectacle. The city with all its picturesque 
beauty of embattled forts and craggy shores — 
the serenity and brilliance of Italian skies in 
May — the blue expanse of the Mediterranean — 
the marble palaces and the glittering domes 
which embellished the streets — the lovely bay 
whitened with sails — all combined to invest the 
gorgeous spectacle with attractions such as are 
rarely witnessed. From Genoa they proceeded 
to Paris, everywhere accompanied by the thun- 
der of artillery and the blaze of illuminations. 
Josephine was not unfrequently under the 
necessity of taking journeys unaccompanied by 
the emperor. On such occasions the tireless 
mind of Napoleon arranged every particular 
with the utmost precision. A manuscript was 
placed in her hand, describing the route she 



JOSEPHINE AN EMPRESS. 205 

was to take, the places at which she was to 
stop, the addresses or replies she was to make 
to public functionaries, the expenses she was to 
incur, and even the presents she was to make. 
On such excursions, Josephine every morning 
most carefully studied her lesson for the day. 
She took great pleasure in obeying his direc- 
tions exactly, exposing herself to great incon- 
veniences rather than to allow herself to devi- 
ate in the slightest particular from the written 
directions. She was ever unwilling to listen to 
any suggestions for change. A very interesting 
illustration of her scrupulous adherence to 
manuscript instructions occurred in her jour- 
ney to Liege. 

Napoleon, in the directions given to Jose- 
phine, had marked out her route by a road 
through the forest of Ardennes. Napoleon 
had ordered that road to be constructed, and 
supposed that it was completed. It was, how- 
ever, only partially made, and it was considered 
quite unsafe to attempt to pass over it with car- 
riages. She inquired if it were possible to pass. 
Being told that it was possible, perhaps, but 
that the attempt would be attended with great 
difficulty and danger, she replied, '^ Very well, 
then ; we will at least try. " Some of the ladies 
accompanying her entreated her to talje another 
route, " No," she replied ; '' Napoleon has re- 
quested me to take this road, and his wishes 



206 JOSEPHINE. 

are my law/' Josephine persevered in the at- 
tempt, and accomplished the passage through, 
though with very great difficulty. In many 
places the workmen on the road had to support 
the carriages with ropes and poles to prevent 
an overturn. It rained during much of the jour- 
ney. Josephine and her ladies were often com- 
pelled to alight, and to walk for some distance 
nearly ankle deep in mud and water. Jose- 
phine endured all with the utmost good nature. 
She was cheered hy the assurance that she was 
following the wishes of her husband. Many of 
her attendants, however, were excessively an- 
noyed by the hardships they encountered. The 
carriage of the first femme-de-chambre was 
actually overturned, and the irritated serving- 
woman could not restrain her expressions of 
impatience and displeasure. At last one of the 
distinguished ladies of the court took it upon 
herself to lecture the empress so roundly for 
her blind subservience to the directions of 
Napoleon, that Josephine burst into tears. 

Josephine, by conversation, observation, and 
reading, was continually storing her mind with 
valuable information. In the various journeys 
she took, she was always accompanied by per- 
sons of intelligence, and who were well ac- 
quainted with the country. While traveling, 
she directed her conversation almost exclusively 
upon the scenes through which they were pass- 



JOSEPHINE AN EMPRESS. 207 

ing. Everything of interest was carefully treas- 
ured up in her memory, and if she learned any 
incident connected with the past fortunes of 
any of the families of the ladies who were with 
her, she never failed to send a special messenger 
with the information, and to point out the 
places where such incidents occurred. She 
seemed thus to be continually studying for op- 
portunities of manifesting kind and delicate 
attentions to the ladies of her household. She 
thus secured a universality and a fervor of af- 
fection such as has rarely been attained. On 
these pleasure excursions, the restraints of the 
court were laid aside, and there were all the 
joyous commingling and affectionate familiari- 
ty which prevail among intimate friends. 

Napoleon, aware of the vast influence which 
the pomp of regal state exerts upon the human 
mind, was very particular in his court in the 
observance of all the etiquette of royalty. Jo- 
sephine, however, was always disposed to es- 
cape from the exactions of the code ceremonial 
whenever she could do so with propriety. A 
curious instance of this occurred at Aix la 
Chapell'e, where the empress was passing a few 
days for the benefit of the baths. One evening 
she was sitting, with her ladies around her, 
weary of the lassitude of a fashionable water- 
ing-place, when some one suggested that, to 
while away an hour, they should visit a cele- 



208 JOSEPHIKE. 

brated model of Paris, which was then on ex- 
hibition. The chevalier of honor was about to 
order the imperial carriages and the cortege, 
when Josephine, to his utter consternation, 
proposed that they should go on foot. She 
was sure, she said, that the citizens of Aix la 
Chapelle were so kindly disposed toward her, 
that there could be no possible danger. The 
chevalier, as far as he dared to do, urged his 
remonstrances against such a breach of imperial 
decorum ; but the ladies of the court were all 
delighted with the plan of Josephine, and they 
set out on foot, a brilliant party of ladies and 
gentlemen, to visit the exhibition. As the citi- 
zens, of course, knew nothing about this unex- 
pected movement, there was no crowd in the 
streets to impede their way, and they proceeded 
without any difficulty, and very pleasantly, to 
the place of their destination. But the intel- 
ligence of the adventure of the court, so novel 
and so unprecedented, was immediately noised 
throughout the town. From every section of 
the city, throngs, allured by curiosity and love 
for Josephine, began to pour into the streets 
through which they were to pass to see them 
return. The citizens occupying the dwellings 
and the shops which lined the streets, instant- 
ly, and as if by magic, illuminated their win- 
dows. A thousand hands were busy in the 
eager and love-incited toil. The party spent ^A 



JOSEPHINE AN EMPRESS. 209 

hour examining the beautiful model of the me- 
tropolis, and then emerged again into the street. 
To their surprise, and not a little to their con- 
sternation, they found their path blazing with 
illuminations. Their whole route was filled 
with a dense throng of men, women and chil- 
dren, all eager to catch a glimpse of their be- 
loved empress, and of the brilliant suite which 
accompanied her. 

The ladies recoiled from attempting the pas- 
sage on foot through such a crowd, and pro- 
posed sending for the carriage and escort. 
Josephine, apprehensive that some accident 
might occur in attempting to drive the horses 
through such a dense mass of people, would not 
listen to the suggestion. ^^ Were any one to 
be injured,'^ she said, " of these friends whom 
our imprudence has assembled, I never could 
forgive myself." Taking the arm of the chev- 
alier, she led the way through the crowd. The 
ladies all followed, each supported by the arm 
of some nobleman of the court. The populace 
respectfully opened before them, and closed up 
behind. The plumes, and diamonds, and gay 
attire of the court shone brilliantly in the blaze 
of light which was shed upon them from the il- 
luminated windows. The enthusiastic accla- 
mations of the populace greeted the empress 
until she arrived, in perfect safety, at her resi- 
dence. As soon as she entered her saloon, with 



210 JOSEPHINE. 

her accustomed frankness she thanked the 
chevalier for the advice which he had given, 
and confessed that, in not following it, she had 
been guilty of imprudence, which might have 
been attended by very serious consequences. 

When traveling unaccompanied by the em- 
peror, she was fond of breakfasting in the open 
air, upon some green lawn, beneath the shade 
of venerable trees, or upon some eminence, 
where her eye could feast upon the sublimities 
of Nature, which are so attractive to every en- 
nobled mind. The peasantry, from a respectful 
distance, would look upon the dazzling specta- 
cle perfectly bewildered and awe-stricken. The 
service of silver and of gold, the luxurious vi- 
ands, the gorgeous display of graceful female 
attire, and uniforms and liveries, all combined 
to invest the scene, in their eyes, with a splen- 
dor almost more than earthly. 

On one occasion, a mother^s love and pride 
triumphed over even her scrupulous obedience 
to the wishes of Napoleon.. Napoleon and Jo- 
sephine, accompanied by Eugene and a very 
magnificent retinue, were at Mayence. There 
was to be a grand presentation of the German 
princes to the emperor and empress. Eugene, 
the son of the empress, according to the laws 
of court etiquette, should have been included 
with Napoleon and Josephine in the presenta- 
tion. By some oversight, his name was omit- 



JOSEPHINE AN EMPRESS. 211 

ted. As Josephine glanced her eye over the 
program, she noticed the omission, and point- 
ed it out to Napoleon. As the arrangements 
had all been made by him, he was not a little 
piqued in finding himself at fault as to a point 
of etiquette, and insisted upon following the 
program. Josephine, ever ready to make any 
personal sacrifice to meet the wishes of Napo- 
leon, could not be induced to sacrifice the sensi- 
tive feelings of her son. '' I had no desire," 
she said, *•' for the honors of coronation ; but, 
since I have been crowned, my son must be 
treated as the son of an empress." Napo- 
leon yielded, not, however, with very good 
grace. 

Two of the princesses of Baden, on this 
occasion, accompanied Josephine to the opera. 
The evening air was chilly, and the empress, 
observing that they were very thinly clad, spread 
over the shoulders of each of them one of her 
rich white Cashmere shawls. These shawls were 
of the most costly texture, and had been pur- 
chased at an expense of several thousand dollars. 
The next morning the elder of the princesses 
sent a note, full of complimentary terms, to 
Josephine, expressing their infinite obligation 
for her kindness, and stating that they would 
keep the shawls in remembrance of one they so 
greatly admired. 

On these journeys Napoleon was full of pleas- 



212 JOSEPHINE. 

antry, and very agreeable. Josephine often 
spoke of this excursion to Mayence in particular 
as the most delightful that she had ever made 
with the emperor. They were met at every 
step on their route with the most enthusiastic 
testimonials of a nation's love and gratitude. 
And Napoleon had at this time conferred bene- 
fits upon France which richly entitled him to 
all this homage. In subsequent years, when 
intoxicated by the almost boundless empire he 
had obtained, and when, at a still later period, 
he was struggling, with the energies of despair, 
against Europe, in arms to crush him, he re- 
sorted to acts which very considerably impaired 
his good name. Josephine, in her journal dur- 
ing this journey, speaks of the common, but 
erroneous impression, that Napoleon could work 
constantly and habitually with very few hours 
devoted to sleep. She says that this was an 
erroneous impression. If the emperor rose at 
a very early hour in the morning, he would 
frequently retire at nine o'clock in the evening. 
And when, on extraordinary occasions, he 
passed many nights together in almost sleepless 
activity, he had the faculty of catching short 
naps at intervals in his carriage, and even on 
horseback. After many days and nights of 
preparation for some great conflict, he has been 
known even to fall asleep upon the field of bat- 
tle, in the midst of all the horrors of the san- 




Napoleon Bonaparte. 



JOSEPHINE AN EMPRESS. 213 

gninary scene. At the battle of Bautzen, for 
instance, Napoleon was extremly fatigued by 
the exertions and sleeplessness of the two pre- 
ceding days and nights. He fell asleep several 
times when seated on an eminence, overlooking 
the field of battle, and which was frequently 
reached by the cannon balls of the enemy. 
Napoleon, at St. Helena when alluding to this 
fact, said that Nature had her rights, which 
could not be violated with impunity ; and that 
he felt better prepared to issue fresh orders, or 
to consider the reports which were brought, 
when awakening from these momentary slum- 
bers. Though Napoleon could not set at de- 
fiance the established laws of our mental and 
physical nature, words can hardly convey an 
adequate idea of the indefatigable activity of 
his mind, or of his extraordinary powers of 
enduring mental and bodily fatigue. Few have 
ever understood better the art of concentrating 
the attention upon one thing at a time. Often, 
on his campaigns, after reading the despatclies, 
and dictating orders to one set of secretaries 
during the whole day, he would throw himself, 
for an hour, upon his sofa, instantly fall into 
the soundest sleep, and then, summoning to 
his presence a new relay of secretaries, would 
keep them incessantly occupied till morning. 
To keep himself awake on such occasions, he 
resorted to strong coffee. It was only under 



214 josEPHm^. 

the pressure of great necessity that he thus 
overtasked his Herculean powers. 

Occasionally, when Napoleon was absent on 
his campaigns, Josephine would retire to Mal- 
maison, and become deeply interested in rural 
occupations. She had a large and very fine 
flock of merino sheep, and she took great pleas- 
ure in superintending their culture. A detach- 
ment of the imperial guard was, on such occa- 
sions, appointed to do duty at Malmaison. One 
evening the empress, sitting up till a later hour 
than usual, heard the sound of footsteps passing 
to and fro beneath her window. She sent for 
the officer of the guard, and inquired what it 
meant. He informed her that it was the sentry, 
who was appointed to keep watch beneath her 
window all night. " Sir," she replied, " I have 
no need of a night-guard. These brave soldiers 
have enough to suffer from the hardships of 
war when they are under the necessity of going 
to the field of battle. In my service they must 
have repose. I wish them here to have no 
sleepless nights." 

It is said that rather a ludicrous occurrence 
took place in one of the cities of the Rhine, in 
reference to a visit which the emperor and era- 
press were about to make to that place. One 
of the distinguished ladies of the city, who was 
anticipating the honor of a presentation, wrote 
to obtain from the master of the ceremonies 



JOSEPHINE AN EMPRESS. 215 

instructions respecting the etiquette to be ob- 
served. The answer contained very minute 
directions, and was couched in terms which 
conveyed a deep impression of their import- 
ance. Among other things, it was stated that 
three courtesies were to be made ; one immedi- 
ately upon entering the saloon, one in the 
middle of the room, and a third, en-inroiiette, 
when having arrived within a few paces of the 
emperor and empress. The familiar significa- 
tion of en pirouette is whirling the body around 
rapidly upon the toes of one foot, the other 
foot being rather indecorously raised. The 
ladies assembled to study these instructions ; 
and though some of the young, the beautiful, 
and the graceful were not unwilling thus to 
display their lightness of limb, there were others 
who read en pirouette with consternation. The 
vast importance which Napoleon attached to 
every form of etiquette was well known. There 
was no alternative ; the fat and the lean, the 
tall and the short, the graceful and the awk- 
ward, all were to approach their majesties en 
'pirouette, or to lose the honor of a presenta- 
tion. *MVe have a fortnight for practise,^' 
said one of the ladies ; ^^ let us prepare our- 
selves." For fifteen days all the drawing-rooms 
of Cologne seemed to be filled with dancing 
dervishes. Venerable dowagers were twirling 
like opera girls, and not unfrequently measur- 



216 JOSEPHINE. 

ing their portly length upon the carpet. En 
pirouette was the theme of every tongue, and 
the scene, morning, noon, and evening, in 
every ambitious saloon. 

On the evening of the arrival of the emperor 
and empress, the same lady who had written 
the letter for instructions called upon one of 
the ladies of the court for still more precise 
directions. She then learned that, in court 
phrase, e7i pirouette simply indicated a slight 
inclination of the body toward their majesties, 
accompanying the courtesy. The intelligence 
was immediately disseminated through Cologne, 
to the great relief of some, and, probabl}^, not 
a little to the disappointment of others. Jo- 
sephine was exceedingly amused at the recital 
of this misunderstanding. 

Josephine was often accused of extravagance. 
Her expenditures were undoubtedly very great. 
She attached no value to money but as a means 
of promoting happiness. She was, perhaps, too 
easily persuaded to purchase of those who were 
ever urging upon her the most costly articles, 
and appealing powerfully to her sympathies to 
induce her to buy. It was difficult for Joseph- 
ine to turn a deaf ear to a tale of distress. 
Napoleon was ever ready to spend millions upon 
millions in great public improvements, but he 
was not willing to have any money wasted. 
Josephine gave away most liberally in charity, 



JOSEPHINE AN EMPRESS. 217 

and the emperor, at times, complained a little 
of the large sums which escaped through her 
hands. In replying once to a friend, who told 
her that she was deemed extravagant, she said, 
^^When 1 have money, you know how I em- 
ploy it. I give it principally to the unfortu- 
nate, who solicit my assistance, and to the poor 
emigrants. But I will try to be more econom- 
ical in future. Tell the emperor so if you see 
him again. But is it not my duty to bestow 
as much charity as I can ? " 

On one occasion Napoleon was much dis- 
pleased by hearing that Josephine had suffered 
General Lorges, the commandment at Aix la 
Chapelle, a young and handsome man, to be 
guilty of the indiscretion of sitting upon the 
same sofa with the empress. He reproached 
her with much severity for permitting such in- 
decorum. Josephine explained the circum- 
stances. Instead of its being General Lorges 
who had thus violated the rules of courtly pro- 
priety, it was one of the aged and veteran gen- 
erals of Napoleon's army, who, inured to the 
hardships of the camp, was entirely unacquainted 
with the politeness of courts. He had been pre- 
sented to Josephine, and, without any conscious- 
ness of the impropriety of which he was guilty, 
immediately seated himself upon the same sofa 
with the empress. Josephine was unwilling to 
wound the feelings of the honest-hearted old 



21 8 josEpaiM. 

soldier, and permitted him to retain his seat 
until he withdrew. Napoleon was perfectly 
satisfied with the explanation, and, upon re- 
ceiving it, manifested renewed indications of 
the affection and esteem with which he regard- 
ed the empress. 

About this time Josephine was informed of 
the contemplated alliance between Eugene and 
the Princess-royal of Bavaria. She was soon 
summoned to Munich to attend their nuptials, 
and there again was united to those she so dearly 
loved. The bride of Eugene was in every re- 
spect worthy of him, and Josephine rejoiced 
over the happiness of her son. The victorious 
emperor and empress then returned to Paris, 
accompanied by a crowd of princes from the 
various courts of Germany. Josephine was now 
upon the very summit of earthly grandeur. 
Europe lay prostrate at the feet of her husband. 
Hortense was Queen of Holland. Eugene was 
Viceroy of Italy, and son-in-law to the King of 
Bavaria. Napoleon, fixing his affections upon 
the eldest child of Hortense, appeared to have 
relinquished the plan of the divorce, and to have 
contemplated the recognition of this child — the 
brother of Louis Napoleon, now President of 
the French Republic — as the heir of his crown. 
The embarrassment which had at times accom- 
panied their interviews had consequently passed 
away. Napoleon was proud of Josephine, and 



JOSEPHINE AN EMPRESS. 219 

often said that there was no woman in the world 
to be compared with her. The empress was 
happy. All France was filled with stories of 
her active benevolence and her sympathy with 
the sorrowful. Wherever she made her appear- 
ance, she was greeted with the acclamations of 
the most enthusiastic attachment. 

Of the many tours which Josephine took 
with Napoleon, she frequently kept a journal, 
noting down the events of interest which oc- 
curred. The fragments of these journals, 
which have appeared before the public, beauti- 
fully exhibit the literary taste and the benevo- 
lence of heart of the empress. The following 
is an extract : 

'^ About two leagues from Bayonne the em- 
peror was presented with a spectacle worthy of 
him. On the declivity of a mountain, gently 
scooped out in different parts of its descent, is 
pitched one of those camps which the foresight 
of the country has provided for its defenders. 
It is composed of seven handsome barracks, 
different in form and aspect, each isolated, sur- 
rounded with an orchard in full bearing, a well- 
stocked poultry-yard, and, at different dis- 
tances, a greater or less quantity of arable land, 
where a diversity of soil yields a variety of pro- 
duce. One side of the mountain is wild, but 
picturesque, with rocks and plants. The other 
seems covered with rich tapestry, so varied and 



220 JOSEPHINE. 

numerous are the plots of highly-cultivated 
ground. The summit is clothed with an ever- 
verdant forest. Down the center, in a deep 
channel, flows a limpid stream, refreshing and 
fertilizing the whole scene. On this spot, the 
veterans who occupy it gave a fete to the em- 
peror which was at once military and rural. 
The wives, daughters, and little children of 
these brave men formed the most pleasing, as 
they were themselves the noblest ornament of 
the festival. Amid piles of arms were seen 
beautiful shrubs covered with flowers, while 
the echoes of the mountain resounded to the 
bleating of flocks and warlike strains of a sol- 
diery intoxicated on thus receiving their chief. 
The emperor raised this enthusiasm to the high- 
est pitch by sitting down at a table at once quite 
military and perfectly pastoral. I dare not 
mention the attentions of which I was the ob- 
ject. They affected me deeply. I regarded 
them as proofs of that veneration which France 
has vowed to the emperor." 

The infamous Ferdinand of Spain, who was 
then claiming the throne, in a disgraceful quar- 
rel with his equally infamous father, sent an 
ambassador to Bayonne to meet the emperor. 
Ferdinand, with the utmost servility, was court- 
ing the support of Napoleon. The ambassador 
possessed, some leagues from Bayonne, an ex- 
tensive farm, on which were bred numerous 



JOSEPHINE Aisr EMPRESS. 221 

flocks of merinoes. " Thither," writes Joseph- 
ine, ^^ under a plausible pretext, we were con- 
ducted to-day. After a feast of really rustic 
magnificence, we made the tour of the posses- 
sion on foot. At the bottom of a verdant dell, 
surrounded on all sides by rocks, covered with 
moss and flowers, all of a sudden a picturesque 
cot appeared, lightly suspended on a projecting 
point of rock. Around it were feeding seven 
or eight hundred sheep of the most beautiful 
breed. We could not restrain a cry of admira- 
tion. Upon the emperor addressing some com- 
pliments to the ambassador, he declared that 
these flocks belonged to me. ' The king, my 
master,' he added, ' knows the empress's taste 
for rural occupations, and as this species of 
sheep is little known in France, and will con- 
stitute the principal ornament, and, conse- 
quently, wealth of a farm, he entreats her not 
to deprive herself of an offering at once so use- 
ful and so agreeable.' 'Don Pedro,' replied 
the emperor, with a tone of severity, 'the em- 
press cannot accept a present save from the 
hand of a king, and your master is not yet one. 
Wait, before making your offering, till your own 
nation and I have decided.'" 

The ordinary routine of life with her, as em- 
press, was as follows. Constant, the valet de 
chambre of Napoleon, gives the following ac- 
count of the commencement of the day. ''I 



22^ JOSEPHINE. 

had a regular order to enter the emperor^s 
apartment at seven o'clock. When the empress 
passed the night there, it was a very unusual 
occurrence not to find the august spouses awake. 
The emperor commonly asked for tea or an in- 
fusion of orange-flowers, and rose immediately 
after. In the course of a few minutes the em- 
press rose also, and, putting on a loose morning- 
gown, either read the journals while the emper- 
or dressed, or retired hy a private access to her 
own apartments, but never without addressing 
some kind and condescending words to myself. '' 
Josephine invariably commenced her morning 
toilet at nine o'clock. This occupied an hour, 
and then she passed into a saloon where she re- 
ceived those who had obtained the favor of a 
morning presentation. A great many petitions 
were presented her on such occasions, and, with 
unvarying kindness, she manifested great firm- 
ness in rejecting those which appeared unwor- 
thy of her support. These audiences occupied 
an hour, and then she met, at eleven o'clock, 
the most distinguished ladies of the court at the 
breakfast-table. Napoleon, entirely engrossed 
by those majestic plans he was ever conceiving: 
and executing, usually breakfasted alone in his 
cabinet, very hastily, not allowing more than 
seven or eight minutes to be occupied by the 
meal. After breakfast, Josephine, with her 
ladies, took a short walk, if the weather was 



JOSEPHINE AN EMPRESS. 223 

fair, or for half an hour played a game of bil- 
liards. The remainder of the morning, until 
three o'clock, she passed in her apartment, with 
her chosen female friends, reading, conversing, 
and embroidering, Josephine herself was an ad- 
mirable reader, and the book they were per- 
using was passed alternately from hand to 
hand. No works were read but those of real 
value. By common consent, all novels were 
banished from the circle, as Napoleon inveter- 
ately abominated every work of that kind. If 
he happened to find a no\el in the hands of any 
of the attendants of the palace, he unhesitat- 
ingly tossed it into the fire, and roundly lec- 
tured the reader upon her waste of time. If 
Josephine had been a novel reader, she never 
could have acquired that mental energy which 
enabled her to fill wifh dignity and with honor 
every position she was called to occupy. 

Occasionally Napoleon would leave his cabi- 
net and enter the apartment of the empress 
where the ladies were reading. His presence 
was ever cordially greeted and, with great so- 
ciability, he would for a few moments converse 
with his friends, and then return to his work. 
Not unfrequently the emperor wished to confer 
with Josephine upon some subject of moment. 
A gentle tap from his hand at the door of pri-; 
vate communication announced to the empress 
the summons, which she ever most joyfully 



224 JOSEPHINE. 

obeyed. Occasionally these interviews were 
protracted for several hours, for the emperor 
had learned to repose great confidence in many 
matters upon the sound judgment of Josephine. 

At three o'clock the carriages were at the 
door, and Josephine, with her ladies, rode out. 
It was very seldom that Napoleon could find 
time to accompany them. On returning from 
the drive, she dressed for dinner. Napoleon at- 
tached much importance to this grand toilet, 
for he was fully aware of the influence of cos- 
tume upon the public mind, and was very fond 
of seeing Josephine dressed with elegance and 
taste. It is reported that he not unfrequently 
recreated himself by entering her boudoir on 
such occasions, and suggesting the robe or the 
jewelry he would like to have her wear. Her 
waiting- women were not a little embarrassed 
by the manner in which his unskilful hands 
would throw about the precious contents of the 
caskets, and the confusion into which he would 
toss all the nameless articles of a lady's ward- 
robe. 

Dinner was appointed at six o'clock. It was, 
however, served when Napoleon was ready to 
receive it. Not unfrequently, when much en- 
grossed with business, he would postpone the 
.hour until nine, and even ten o'clock. The 
cook, during all this time, would be preparing 
fresh viands, that a hot dinner might be ready 



JOSEPHINE AN EMPRESS. 225 

at a moment's warning. A chicken, for in- 
stance, was put upon the spit every fifteen min- 
utes. Napoleon and Josephine always dined to- 
gether, sometimes alone, more frequently with 
a few invited guests. There was a grand mas- 
ter of ceremonies, who, on all such occasions, 
informed the grand marshal of the necessary 
arrangements, and of the seat each guest was 
to occupy. 

Occasionally the emperor and empress dined 
in state. Eich drapery canopied the table, 
which was placed upon a platform, slightly 
elevated, with two armchairs of gorgeous work- 
manship, one for Napoleon, and the other, upon 
his left, for Josephine. Other tables were placed 
upon the floor of the same room for illustrious 
guests. The grand marshal announced to the 
emperor when the preparations for them to enter 
the room were completed. A gorgeous proces- 
sion of pages, marshals, equeries, and chamber- 
lains accompanied the emperor and empress into 
the hall. Pages and stewards performed the 
subordinate parts of the service at the table, in 
bringing and removing dishes, while noblemen 
of the highest rank felt honored in ministering 
to the immediate wants of their majesties. 
Those who sat at the surrounding tables were 
served by servants in livery. 

Josephine passed the evening in her apart- 
ment almost invariably with a party either of 



226 JOSEPHINE. 

invited guests, or of distinguished ministers and 
officers of the empire, who, having called on 
business, were awaiting the pleasure of Napo- 
leon. There were frequent receptions and 
levees, which filled the saloons of the palace with 
a brilliant throng. At midnight all company 
retired, and the palace was still. Josephine 
loved the silence of these midnight hours, when 
the turmoil of the day had passed, and no 
sounds fell upon her ear but the footfalls of the 
sentinel in the courtyard below. She often 
sat for an hour alone, surrendering herself to 
the luxury of solitude and of undisturbed 
thought. 

Such was the general routine of the life of 
Josephine while empress. She passed from one 
to another of the various royal residences, equal- 
ly at home in all. At the Tuilleries, St. Cloud, 
Versailles, Rambouillet, and Fontainebleau, life 
was essentially the same. Occasionally, at the 
rural palaces, hunting parties were formed for 
the entertainment of distinguished guests from 
abroad. Napoleon himself took but little per- 
sonal interest in sports of this kind. On such 
occasions, the empress, with. her ladies, usually 
rode in an open caleche, and a picnic was pro- 
vided, to be spread on the green turf, beneath 
the boughs of the forest. Once a terrified, pant- 
ing stag, exhausted with the long chase, when 
the hounds in full bay were just ready to spring 



JOSEPHINE AN EMPRESS. 227 

upon him, by a strange instinct sought a retreat 
beneath the carriage in which the gentle heart 
of Josephine was throbbing. The appeal was 
not in vain. Josephine pleaded for the life of 
the meek-eyed, trembling suppliant. To mark 
it as her favorite, and as living under the shield 
of her protection, she had a silver collar put 
around its neck. The stag now roamed its na- 
tive glades unharmed. No dog was permitted 
to molest it, and no sportsman would injure a 
protege of Josephine. Her love was its talis- 
man. 

The following letter, which at this time she 
wrote to Caroline, the sister of Napoleon, who 
had married Murat, will show the principles, in 
the exercise of which Josephine won to herself 
the love of all hearts. 

" Our glory, the glory of woman, lies in sub- 
mission ; and if it "be permitted us to reign, our 
empire rests on gentleness and goodness. Your 
husband, already so great in the opinion of the 
world through his valor and exploits, feels as 
if he beheld all his laurels brought to the dust 
on appearing in your presence. You take a 
pride in humbling him before your pretensions ; 
and the title of being the sister of a hero is, with 
you, reason for believing yourself a heroine. 
Believe me, my sister, that character, with the 
qualities which it supposes, becomes us not. 
Let us rejoice moderately in the glory of our 

1 / — Josephine 



228 JOSEPHINE. 

husbands, and find our glory in softening their 
manners, and leading the world to pardon their 
deeds. Let us merit this praise, that the nation, 
while it applauds the bravery of our husbands, 
may also commend the gentleness bestowed 
by Providence on their wives to temper their 
bravery. " 

The palace ever seemed desolate when Napo- 
leon was absent, and Josephine was always so- 
licitous to accompany him upon his tours. Na- 
poleon loved to gratify this wish, for he prized 
most highly the companionship of his only con- 
fidential friend. Upon one occasion, when he 
had promised to take the empress with him, cir- 
cumstances arose demanding special speed, and 
he resolved to set out secretly without her. He 
ordered his carriage at one o'clock in the morn- 
ning — an hour in which he supposed she would 
be most soundly asleep. To his amazement, 
just as he had stepped into his carriage, Jose- 
phine, in all the dishabille of her night-dress, 
with some slight drapery thrown over her person, 
and without even stockings upon her feet, threw 
herself into his arms. Some noise had at the 
moment awoke her, she caught an intimation of 
what was going on, and without a moment's 
thought, sprang from her bed, threw over her a 
cloak, rushed down-stairs, and burst into the 
carriage. Napoleon fondly embraced her, rolled 
her up warmly in his own capacious traveling 



JOSEPHINE AN EMPRESS. 229 

pelisse, gave orders for suitable attendants to 
follow with the wardrobe of the empress, and 
the horses, with lightning speed, darted from 
the courtyard. **I could sooner, '' Napoleon 
would jocosely says, '^ transport the whole ar- 
tillery of a division of my grand army, than the 
bandboxes of Josephine's waiting-women.'^ 

The visit which Josephine made with Napo- 
leon to Spain gave her such an insight into the 
Spanish character, that she looked with much 
alarm upon his endeavor to place one of his 
brothers upon the Spanish throne. '^Napo- 
leon," said she one day to her ladies, " is per- 
suaded that he is to subjugate all the nations 
of the earth. He cherishes such a confidence 
in his star, that should he be abandoned to- 
morrow by family and allies, a wanderer, and 
proscribed, he would support life, convinced 
that he should triumph over all obstacles, and 
accomplish his destiny by realizing his mighty 
designs. Happily, we shall never have an 
opportunity of ascertaining whether I am 
right. But of this you may rest assured. Na- 
poleon is more courageous morally than phys- 
ically. I know him better than any one else 
does. He believes himself predestinated, and 
would support reverses with as much calmness 
as he manifests when confronting danger on 
the field of battle." 

Little did Josephine imagine, when uttering 



230 JOSEPHINE. 

these sentiments, that her proud husband, be- 
fore whose name the world seemed to tremble, 
was to die in poverty and imprisonment on the 
most barren island of the ocean. 

The astounding energy of Napoleon was con- 
spicuously displayed about this time in his 
Spanish campaign. He had placed Joseph 
upon the throne of Spain, and had filled the 
Peninsula with his armies. The Spaniards had 
everywhere risen against him, and, guided by 
English counsels, and inspirited by the tremen- 
dous energy of English arms, they had driven 
Joseph from his capital, had massacred, by the 
rage of the mob, thousands of French residents 
who were dwelling in the Spanish cities, and 
were rapidly driving the French army over the 
Pyrenees. Napoleon had but just returned 
from the treaty of Tilsit when he was informed 
of this discouraging state of affairs. 

He immediately, without a moment allowed 
for repose, set out for Spain. Josephine ear- 
nestly entreated permission to accompany the 
emperor. She assured him that she was fully 
aware of the difficulties, fatigue, and peril she 
must encounter, but that most cheerfully could 
she bear them all for the sake of being with 
him. She said that she should neither feel 
hunger nor cold, nor the need of repose, if she 
could but be by the side of her husband, and 
that all the privations of the camp would be 



JOSEPHINE AN EMPRESS. 231 

happiness when shared with one who was all 
the world to her. Napoleon was deeply moved 
by this exhibition of her love, but, aware of the 
incessant activity with which it would be nec- 
essary for hira to drive by night and by day, 
he firmly but kindly denied her request. Jo- 
sephine wept bitterly as they parted. 

One morning, early in November, 1808, the 
glittering cavalcade of the emperor, at the full 
gallop, drove into the encampment of the re- 
treating French at Vittoria. The arrival of an 
angel, commissioned from heaven to their aid, 
could not have inspired the soldiers with more 
enthusiasm. The heavens rang with the shouts 
of the mighty host, as they greeted their mon- 
arch with cries of Vive TEmpereur ! '' Not 
one moment was lost. Napoleon placed him- 
self at the head of his concentrated army, and 
turning them, now inspirited with the utmost 
confidence, against the foes before whom they 
had been retreating, with the resistlessness of 
an avalanche overwhelmed the Spanish forces. 
Wherever he appeared, resistance melted away 
before him. In the pride of achievements 
almost miraculous, he marched into Madrid, 
and there, in the capital of Spain, re-estab- 
lished his fallen throne. But he tarried not 
there an hour for indulgence or repose. The 
solid columns of the English army, under Sir 
John Moore, were still in Spain. Napoleon 



232 JOSEPHINE. 

urged his collected forces, with all the energy 
which hatred could inspire, upon his English 
foes, and the Britons, mangled and bleeding, 
were driven into their ships. The conqueror, 
feeling that he was indeed the man of destiny, 
looked for a moment complacently upon Spain, 
again in subjection at his feet, and then, with 
the speed of the whirlwind, returned to Jo- 
sephine at St. Cloud, having been absent but 
little more than two months. 

In the mean time, while Napoleon was far 
away with his army, upon the other side of the 
Pyrenees, Kussia, Sweden, and Austria thought 
it a favorable moment to attack him in his 
rear. They brought no accusations against the 
emperor, they issued no proclamation of war, 
but secretly and treacherously conspired to 
march, with all the strength of their collected 
armies, upon the unsuspecting emperor. It 
was an alliance of the kings of Europe against 
Napoleon, because he sat upon the throne, not 
by hereditary descent, the only recognized 
divine right, but by the popular vote. The in- 
dignation of the emperor, and of every patriotic 
Frenchman, had been roused by the totally 
unjustifiable, but bold and honest avowal of 
England, that peace could only be obtained by 
the wresting of the crown from the brow of 
Napoleon, and replacing it upon the head of 
the rejected Bourbon. 



JOSEPHINE AN EMPRESS. 233 

The emperor had been at St. Cloud but a short 
time, when, early one spring morning, a cour- 
ier came dashing into the courtyard of the pal- 
ace at his utmost speed, bringing the intelligence 
to Napoleon that Austria had treacherously vi- 
olated the treaty of peace, and, in alliance with 
Russia, Sweden, and England, was marching 
her armies to invade the territory of France. 
The emperor, his eye flashing with indignation, 
hastily proceeded to the apartment of the em- 
press with the papers communicating the intel- 
ligence in his hand. Josephine was asleep, hav- 
ing but just retired. He approached her bed, 
and, awaking her from sound slumber, requested 
her to be ready in two hours to accompany 
him to Germany. '' You have played the part of 
an empress," said he, playfully, 'Mong enough. 
You must now become again the wife of a gen- 
eral. I leave immediately. Will you accom- 
pany me to Strasburg ?'' This was short no- 
tice, but, with the utmost alacrity, she obeyed 
the joyful summons. 

She was so accustomed to the sudden move- 
ments of the emperor that she was not often 
taken by surprise. Promptness was one of the 
most conspicuous of her manifold virtues. " I 
have never," she has been heard to say, " kept 
any one waiting for me half a minute, when to 
be punctual depended upon myself. Punctual- 
ity is true politeness, especially in the greaf 



234 JOSEPHINE. 

The emperor was in glowing spirits. He had 
no doubt that he should be entirely victorious, 
and Josephine was made truly happy by that 
suavity and those kind attentions which he in 
this journey so signally displayed. Their route 
conducted them through some of the most beau- 
tiful and fertile valleys of France. Everywhere 
around them they saw the indications of pros- 
perity and happiness. Napoleon was in the 
height of glory. The most enthusiastic accla- 
mations of love and homage greeted the em- 
peror and empress wherever the panting steeds 
which drew them rested for a moment. As 
they stopped for a new relay of horses in one of 
the little villages of Lorraine, Josephine beheld 
a peasant woman kneeling upon the steps of 
the village church, with her countenance bathed 
in tears. The aspect of grief ever touched the 
kind heart of the empress. She sent for the 
poor woman, and inquired into the cause of her 
grief. 

'' My poor grandson, Joseph,^' said she, '' is 
included in the conscription, and, notwithstand- 
ing all my prayers, he must become a soldier. 
And more than this, his sister Julie was to have 
been married to Michael, a neighbor's son, and 
now he refuses to marry her because Joseph is 
in the conscription. And should my son pur- 
chase a substitute for poor Joseph, it would take 
all his money, and he would have no dowry to 



JOSEPHINE AN EMPRESS. 235 

give Julie. And her dowry was to have been a 
hundred and twenty dollars." 

'^Take that/' said the emperor, presenting 
the woman with a purse. " You will find 
enough who will be ready to supply Joseph's 
place for that amount. I want soldiers, and, 
for that purpose, must encourage marriages." 
Josephine was so much interested in the adven- 
ture, that, as soon as she arrived at Strasburg, 
she sent a valuable bridal present to Julie. The 
good woman's prayers were answered. From 
Strasburg Josephine returned to Paris, while 
Napoleon pressed on to encounter the combined 
armies of Austria and Eussia in the renowned 
campaign of Wagram. 

It was in 1805, some years before the events 
we have just described, that Napoleon, with his 
enthusiastic troops, embarked in the celebrated 
campaign of Ulm and Austerlitz. At Ulm he 
surrounded thirty thousand of his foes, and al- 
most without a skirmish compelled them to 
lay down their arms. '^ Your master," said he 
to the Austrian generals, as, almost dying with 
mortification, they surrendered their swords, 
*' your master wages against me an unjust war. 
I say it candidly, I know not for what I am 
fighting. I know not what he desires of me. 
He has wished to remind me that I was once a 
soldier. I trust he will find that I havenot for- 
gotten my original avocation. I will, however, 



236 JOSEPHINE. 

given one piece of advice to my brother, the 
Emperor of Austria. Let him hasten to make 
peace. This is the moment to remember that 
there are limits to all empires, however power- 
ful. The idea that the house of Lorraine may- 
come to an end should inspire him with distrust 
of fortune. I want nothing on the Continent. 
/ desire ships, colonies, and commerce. Their 
acquisition would be as advantageous to you as 
to me." 

From Ulm, Napoleon, with two hundred 
thousand men, flushed with victory, rushed like 
a tempest down the valley of the Danube, driv- 
ing the terrified Austrians before him like chaff 
swept by the whirlwind. Ten thousand bomb- 
shells were rained down upon the roofs of Vi- 
enna, till the dwellings and the streets were 
deluged with the blood of innocence, and then 
the gates were thrown open for the entrance of 
the conqueror. Alexander, the Emperor of all 
the Russias, was hastening down from the North, 
with his barbarian hordes, to aid the beleaguered 
city. Napoleon tarried not at Vienna. Fear- 
lessly pushing on through the sleet and the hail 
of a Northern winter, he disappeared in the dis- 
tance from the eyes of France. Austria, Swe- 
den, Eussia, were assembling their innumerable 
legions to crush him. He was far from home, 
in a hostile country. Rumors that his rashness 



JOSEPHINE AN EMPRESS. 237 

had led to his ruin began to circulate through- 
out Europe. 

Josephine was almost distracted with anxiety- 
respecting her husband. She knew that a ter- 
rible battle was approaching, in which he was 
to encounter fearful odds. The most gloomy 
forebodings pervaded Paris and all France. 
Several days had passed, during which no intel- 
ligence whatever had been received from the 
distant army. Ominous whispers of defeat and 
ruin filled the air. The cold blasts of a Decem- 
ber night were whistling around the towers of 
St. Cloud, as Josephine and a few of her friends 
were assembled in the saloon, anxiously await- 
ing tidings from Napoleon. It was no time for 
hilarity, and no one attempted even to promote 
festive enjoyment. The hour of nine o'clock 
had arrived, and yet no courier appeared. All 
hopes of any tidings on that day were relin- 
quished. Suddenly the clatter of iron hoofs was 
heard as a single horseman galloped into the 
courtyard. Josephine almost fainted with emo- 
tion as she heard the feeble shout, '^ Victory — 
Austerlitz ! '' She rushed to the window and 
threw it open. The horse of the courier had 
fallen dead upon the pavement, and the exhaust- 
ed rider, unable to stand, was half reclining by 
his side. In the intensity of her impatience, 
Josephine rushed down the stairs and into the 
courtyard, followed by all her ladies. The 



238 JOSEPHINE. 

faithful messenger was brought to her in the 
arms of four men. He presented to the empress 
a blurred and blotted line, which the emperor 
had written amid the thunder and the smoke, 
the uproar and the carnage of the dreadful day 
of Austerlitz. As soon as Napoleon saw the 
field covered with the slain, and the routed 
armies of his foes flying in dismay before their 
triumphant pursuers, in the midst of all the hor- 
rors of that most horrible scene, he turned the 
energies of his impetuous mind from the hot 
pursuit to pen a line to his faithful Josephine, 
announcing the victory. The empress, with 
tears almost blinding her eyes, read the billet 
where she stood, by the light of a torch which an 
attendant had brought her. She immediately 
drew from her finger a valuable diamond ring, 
and presented it to the bearer of the joyful mes- 
sage. The messenger was Moustache the 
Mameluke, who had accompanied Napoleon 
from Egypt, and who was so celebrated for the 
devotion of his attachment to the emperor. He 
had ridden on horseback one hundred and fifty 
miles within twelve hours. 

Napoleon was exceedingly sensitive to any 
apparent want of affection or attention on the 
part of Josephine. A remarkable occurrence, 
illustrative of this sensitiveness, took place on 
his return from his last Austrian campaign. 
When he arrived at Munich, where he was de^ 



JOSEPHINE AN EMPRESS. 239 

layed for a short time, he dispatched a courier 
to Josephine, informing her that he would be at 
Fontainebleau on the evening of the twenty -sev- 
enth, and expressing a wish that the court should 
be assembled there to meet him. He, however, 
in his eagerness, pressed on with such unantici- 
pated speed, that he arrived early in the morn- 
ing of the twenty-sixth, thirty-six hours earlier 
than the time he had appointed. He had actu- 
ally overtaken his courier, and entered with him 
the courtyard at Fontainebleau. Very unreason- 
ably annoyed at finding no one there to receive 
him, he said to the exhausted courier, as he was 
dismounting from his horse, '^ You can rest to- 
morrow ; gallop to St Cloud, and announce my 
arrival to the empress.'^ It was a distance of 
forty miles. Napoleon was very impatient all 
the day, and, in the evening, hearing a carriage 
enter the courtyard, he eagerly ran down, as 
was his invariable custom, to greet Josephine. 
To his great disappointment, the carriage con- 
tained only some of her ladies. '' And where is 
the empress ? '* he exclaimed, in surprise. '^ We 
have preceded her by perhaps a quarter of an 
hour,^' they replied. The emperor was now in 
very ill humor. ^^ A very happy arrangement," 
said he, sarcastically ; and, turning upon his 
heel, he ascended to the little library, where he 
had been busily employed. 

Soon Josephine arrived. Napoleon, hearing 



240 JOSEPHINE. 

the carriage enter the court, coldly asked who 
had come. Being informed that it was the 
empress, he moved not from his seat, but went 
on very busily with his writing. The attendants 
were greatly surprised, for he never before had 
been known to omit meeting the empress at her 
carriage. Josephine, entirely unconscious of 
any fault, and delighted with the thought of 
again meeting her husband, and of surprising 
him in his cabinet, hastened up-stairs and en- 
tered the room. Napoleon looked up coldly 
from his papers, and addressed her with the 
chilling salutation, "And so, madame, you have 
come at last ! It is well. I was just about to 
set out for St. Cloud." Josephine burst into 
tears, and stood silently sobbing before him. 
Napoleon was conquered. His own conscience 
reproved him for his exceeding injustice. He 
rose from his seat, exclaiming, '^ Josephine, I 
am wrong ; forgive me ; *' and, throwing his 
arms around, her neck, embraced her most 
tenderly. The reconciliation was immediate 
and perfect, for the gentle spirit of Josephine 
could retain no resentment. 

Napoleon had a very decided taste in refer- 
ence to Josephine's style of dress, and her only 
ambition was to decorate her person in a man- 
ner which would be agreeable to him. On this 
occasion she retired very soon to dress for 
dinner. In about half an hour she reappeared. 



JOSEPHINE AN EMPRESS. 241 

dressed with great elegance, in a robe of white 
satin, bordered with eider down, and with a 
wreath of blue flowers, entwined with silver 
ears of corn, adorning her hair. Napoleon rose 
to meet her, and gazed upon her with an expres- 
sion of great fondness. Josephine said, with a 
smile, ^' You do not think that I have occupied 
too much time at my toilet ? " Napoleon point- 
ed playfully to the clock upon the mantel, which 
indicated the hour of half past seven, and, 
taking the hand of his wife, entered the dining- 
room. 

Though Napoleon often displayed the weak- 
nesses of our fallen nature, he at times exhibit- 
ed the noblest traits of humanity. On one oc- 
casion, at Boulogne, he was informed of a young 
English sailor, a prisoner of war, who had es- 
caped from his imprisonment in the interior of 
France, and had succeeded in reaching the 
coast near that town. He had secretly con- 
structed, in an unfrequented spot, a little skijff, 
of the branches and bark of trees, in which 
fabric, almost as fragile as the ark of bulrushes, 
he was intending to float out upon the storm- 
swept channel, hoping to be picked up by some 
English cruiser and conveyed home. Napoleori 
was struck with admiration in view of the fear- 
lessness of the project, and, sending for the 
young man, questioned him very minutely 
respecting the motives which could induce him 

18— Josephine 



242 .TOSEPHINE. 

to undertake so perilous an adventure. The 
emperor expressed some doubt whether he would 
really have ventured to encounter the dangers 
of the ocean in so frail a skiff. The young man 
entreated Napoleon to ascertain whether he was 
in earnest by granting him permission to carry 
his design into execution. *' You must doubt- 
less, then/^ said the emperor, " have some mis- 
tress to revisit, since you are so desirous to re- 
turn to your country ^" '^ No ! '' replied the 
sailor, ^' I wish to see my mother. She is aged 
and infirm. '^ The heart of the emperor was 
touched. " You shall see her,^' he energetically 
and promptly replied. He immediately gave 
orders that the young man should be thoroughly 
furnished with all comforts, and sent in a 
cruiser, with a flag of truce, to the first British 
vessel which could be found. He also gave the 
young man a purse for his mother, saying, '' She 
must be no common parent who can have 
trained up so affectionate and dutiful a son/' 




CHAPTER XII. 



THE DIVORCE AKD LAST DAYS. 



Allusion has already been made to the strong 
attachment with which Napoleon cherished his 
little grandchild, the son of Hortense and of 
his brother Louis. The boy was extremely 
beautiful, and developed all those noble and 
spirited traits of character which peculiarly 
delighted the emperor. Napoleon had ap- 
parently determined to make the young prince 
his heir. This was so generally the under- 
standing, both in France and in Holland, that 
Josephine was quite at ease, and serene days 
dawned again upon her heart. 

Early in the spring of 1807, this child, upon 
whom such destinies were depending, then five 
years of age, was seized suddenly and violently 
with the croup, and in a few hours died. The 
blow fell upon the heart of Josephine with most 
appalling power. Deep as was her grief at the 
loss of the child, she was overwhelmed with 
uncontrollable anguish in view of those fearful 
consequences which she shuddered to contem- 

243 



244 JOSEPHINE. 

plate. She knew that Napoleon loved her 
fondly, but she also knew the strength of his 
ambition, and that he would make any sacrifice 
of his affection, which, in his view, would sub- 
serve the interests of his power and his glory. 
For three days she shut herself up in her room, 
and was continually bathed in tears. 

The sad intelligence was conveyed to Napo- 
leon when he was far from home, in the midst 
of the Prussian campaign. He had been vic- 
torious, almost miraculously victorious, over 
his enemies. He had gained accessions of power 
such as, in the wildest dreams of youth, he had 
hardly imagined. All opposition to his sway 
was now apparently crushed. Napoleon had 
become the creator of kings, and the proudest 
monarchs of Europe were constrained to do his 
bidding. It was in an hour of exultation that 
the mournful tidings reached him. He sat 
down in silence, buried his face in his hands, 
and for a long time seemed lost in the most 
painful musings. He was heard mournfully and 
anxiously to repeat to himself again and again, 
'' To whom shall I leave all this ? " The 
struggle in his mind between his love for Jo- 
sephine and his ambitious desire to found a new 
dynasty, and to transmit his name and fame to 
all posterity, was fearful. It was manifest in 
his pallid cheek, in his restless eye, in the loss 
of appetite and of sleep. But the stern will of 



THE DIVORCE AND LAST DAYS. 245 

Bonaparte was unrelenting in its purposes. 
With an energy which the world has never seen 
surpassed, he had chosen his part. It was the 
purpose of his soul— the purpose before which 
everything had to bend— to acquire the glory 
of making France the most illustrious, power- 
fal, and happy nation earth had ever seen. 
For this he was ready to sacrifice comfort, ease, 
and his sense of right. For this he was ready 
to sunder the strongest ties of affection. 

Josephine knew Napoleon. She was fully 
aware of his boundless ambition. With almost 
insupportable anguish she wept over the death 
of this idolized child, and, with a trembling 
heart, awaited her husband's return. Mysteri- 
ous hints began to fill the journals of the con- 
templated divorce, and of the alliance of Napo- 
leon with various princesses of foreign courts. 

In October, 1807, Napoleon returned from 
Vienna. He greeted Josephine with the great- 
est kindness, but she soon perceived that his 
mind was ill at ease, and that he was pondering 
the fearful question. He appeared sad and 
embarrassed. He had frequent private inter- 
views with his ministers. A general feeling of 
constraint pervaded the court. Napoleon 
scarcely ventured to look upon his wife, as if ap- 
prehensive that the very sight of one whom he 
had loved so well might cause him to waver in his 
firm ;3urpose, Josephine was in a state of the 



246 JOSEPHINE. 

most feverish solicitude, and yet was compelled 
to appear calm and unconstrained. As yet she 
had only fearful forebodings of her impending 
doom. She watched, with most excited appre- 
hension, every movement of the emperor's eye, 
every intonation of his voice, every sentiment 
he uttered. Each day some new and trivial in- 
dication confirmed her fears. Her husband be- 
came more reserved, absented himself from her 
society, and the private access between their 
apartments was closed. He now seldom en- 
tered her room, and whenever he did so, he in- 
variably knocked. And yet not one word had 
passed between him and Josephine upon the 
fearful subject. Whenever Josephine heard the 
sound of his approaching footsteps, the fear 
that he was coming with the terrible announce- 
ment of separation immediately caused such 
violent palpitations of the heart that it was 
with the utmost difficulty she could totter across 
the floor, even when supporting herself by lean- 
ing against the walls, and catching at the arti- 
cles of furniture. 

The months of October and November passed 
away, and, while the emperer was discussing 
with his cabinet the alliance into which he 
should enter, he had not yet summoned courage 
to break the subject to Josephine. The evi- 
dence is indubitable that he experienced intense 
.anguish in view of the separation, but this did 



THE DIVORCE AND LAST DAYS. 247 

not influence his iron will to swerve from its 
purpose. The grandeur of his fame and the 
magnitude of his power were now such, that 
there was not a royal family in Europe which 
would not have felt honored in conferring upon 
him a bride. It was at first contemplated that 
he should marry some princess of the Bourbon 
family, and thus add to the stability of his 
throne by conciliating the Eoyalists of France. 
A princess of Saxony was proposed. Some 
weighty considerations urged an alliance with 
the majestic empire of Russia, and some ad- 
vances were made to the court of St. Peters- 
burg, having in view a sister of the Emperor 
Alexander. It was finally decided that pro- 
posals should be made to the court of Vienna 
for Maria Louisa, daughter of the Emperor of 
Austria. 

At length the fatal day arrived for the an- 
nouncement to Josephine. It was the last day 
of November, 1809. The emperor and empress 
dined at Fontainebleau alone. She seems to 
have had a presentiment that her doom was 
sealed, for all that day she had been in her re- 
tired apartment, weeping bitterly. As the din- 
ner-hour approached, she bathed her swollen 
eyes, and tried to regain composure. They sat 
down at the table in silence. Napoleon did not 
speak. Josephine could not trust her voice to 
utter a word. Neither ate a mouthful. Course 



248 JOSEPHINE. 

after course was bronght in and removed un- 
touched. A mortal paleness revealed the an- 
guish of each heart. Napoleon, in his embar- 
rassment, mechanically, and apparently uncon- 
sciously, struck the edge of his glass with his 
knife, while lost in thought. A more melan- 
choly meal probably was never witnessed. The 
attendants around the table seemed to catch the 
infection, and moved softly and silently in the 
discharge of their duties, as if they were in the 
chamber of the dead. At last the ceremony of 
dinner was over, the attendants were dismissed, 
and Napoleon, rising, and closing the door with 
his own hand, was left alone with Josephine. 
Another moment of most painful silence ensued, 
when the emperor, pale as death, and trembling 
in every nerve, approached the empress. He 
took her hand, placed it upon his heart, and in 
faltering accents said, '^ Josephine ! my own 
good Josephine ! you know how I have loved 
you. It is to you alone that I owe the only few 
moments of happiness I have known in the 
world. Josephine ! my destiny is stronger than 
my will. My dearest affections must yield to 
the interests of France.'' 

Josephine's brain reeled ; her blood ceased to 
circulate ; she fainted, and fell lifeless upon the 
floor. Napoleon, alarmed, threw open the door 
of the saloon, and called for help. Attendants 
from the ante-room immediately entered. Na- 



THE DIVORCE AND LAST DAYS. 249 

poleon took a taper from the mantle, and utter- 
ing not a word, but pale and trembling, mo- 
tioned to the Count de Beaumont to take the 
empress in his arms. She was still unconscious 
of everything, but began to murmur, in tones 
of anguish, " Oh, no ! you cannot surely do 
it. You would not kill me." The emperor led 
the way, through a dark passage, to the private 
staircase which conducted to the apartment 
of the empress. The agitation of Napoleon 
seemed now to increase. He uttered some in- 
coherent sentences about a violent nervous 
attack ; and, finding the stairs too steep and 
narrow for the Count de Beaumont to bear the 
body of the helpless Josephine unassisted, he 
gave the light to an attendant, and, supporting 
her limbs himself, they reached the door of 
her bed-room. Napoleon then, dismissing his 
male attendants, and laying Josephine upon her 
bed, rang for her waiting-women. He hung 
over her with an expression of the most intense 
affection and anxiety until she began to revive. 
But the moment consciousness seemed return- 
ing, he left the room. Napoleon did not even 
throw himself upon his bed that night. He 
paced the floor until the dawn of the morning. 
The royal surgeon, Corvisart, passed the night 
at the bedside of the empress. Every hour 
the restless yet unrelenting emperor called at 
her door to inquire concerning her situation. 



250 JOSEPHINE. 

^' On recovering from my swoon," says Joseph- 
ine, '^ I perceived that Corvisart was in atten- 
dance, and my poor daughter, Hortense, weep- 
ing over me. No ! no ! I cannot describe the 
horror of my situation during that night ! Even 
the interest he affected to take in my suffering 
seemed to me additional cruelty. Oh ! how 
much reason had I to dread becoming an 
empress ! " 

A fortnight now passed away, during which 
Napoleon and Josephine saw but little of each 
other. During this time there occurred the an- 
niversary of the coronation, and of the victory 
of Austerlitz. Paris was filled with rejoicing. 
The bells rang their merriest peals. The me- 
tropolis was refulgent with illuminations. In 
these festivities Josephine was compelled to ap- 
pear. She knew that the sovereigns and 
princes then assembled in Paris were informed 
of her approaching disgrace. In all these 
sounds of triumph she heard but the knell of 
her own doom. And though a careful observer 
would have detected indications, in her moist- 
ened eye and her pallid cheek, of the secret 
woe which was consuming her heart, her hab- 
itual affability and grace never, in public, for 
one moment forsook her. Hortense, languid 
and sorrow-stricken, was with her mother. 

Eugene was summoned from Italy. He 
hastened to Paris, and his first interview was 



THE DiVOECll AND LAST DAYS. 251 

with his mother; From her saloon he went di- 
rectly to the cabinet of Napoleon, and inquired 
of the emperor if he had decided to obtain a 
divorce from the empress. Napoleon, who was 
very strongly attached to Eugene, made no re- 
ply, but pressed his hand as an expression that 
it was so. Eugene immediately dropped the 
hand of the emperor, and said, 

" Sire, in that case, permit me to withdraw 
from your service. '* 

^^How !" exclaimed Napoleon, looking upon 
him sadly ; '' will you, Eugene, my adopted 
son, leave me ? " 

** Yes, sir,'^ Eugene replied, firmly; *Hhe 
son of her who is no longer empress cannot re- 
main viceroy. I will follow my mother into 
her retreat. She must now find her consolation 
in her children." 

Napoleon was not without feelings. Tears 
filled his eyes. In a mournful voice, tremulous 
with emotion, he replied, ^'Eugene, you know 
the stern necessity which compels this measure, 
and will you forsake me ? Who, then, should 
I have a son, the object of my desires and pre- 
server of my interests, who would watch over 
the child when I am absent ? If I die, who will 
prove to him a father ? Who will bring him 
up ? Who is to make a man of him ? " 

Eugene was deeply affected, and, taking Na- 
poleon's arm, they retired and conversed a 



252 JOSEPHINE. 

long time together. The noble Josephine, ever 
sacrificing her own feelings to promote the hap- 
piness of others, urged her son to remain the 
friend of Napoleon. *' The emperor," she 
said, '*is your benefactor — your more than 
father, to whom you are indebted for every 
thing, and to whom, therefore, you owe a 
boundless obedience." 

The fatal day for the consummation of the 
divorce at length arrived. It was the 15th of 
December, 1809. Napoleon had assembled all 
the kings, princes, and princesses who were 
members of the imperial family, and also the 
most illustrious officers of the empire, in the 
grand saloon of the Tuilleries. Every individ- 
ual present was oppressed with the melancholy 
grandeur of the occasion. Napoleon thus ad- 
dressed them : 

'' The political interests of my monarchy, 
the wishes of my people, which have constantly 
guided my actions, require that I should trans- 
mit to an heir, inheriting my love for the peo- 
ple, the throne on which Providence has placed 
me. For many years I have lost all hopes of 
having children by my beloved spouse, the Em- 
press Josephine. It is this consideration which 
induces me to sacrifice the sweetest affections 
of my heart, to consult only the good of my 
subjects, and to desire the dissolution of our 
marriage. Arrived at the age of forty years, I 



THE DlVOiiCE AND LAST DAYS. 253 

may indulge a reasonable hope of living long 
enough to rear, in the spirit of my own thoughts 
and disposition, the children with which it 
may please Providence to bless me. God knows 
what such a determination has cost my heart ; 
but there is no sacrifice which is above my 
courage, when it is proved to be for the inter- 
ests of France. Far from having any cause of 
complaint, I have nothing to say but in praise 
of the attachment and tenderness of my beloved 
wife. She has embellished fifteen years of my 
life, and the remembrance of them will be for- 
ever engraven on my heart. She was crowned 
by my hand ; she shall retain always the rank 
and title of empress. Above all, let her never 
doubt my feelings, or regard me but as her best 
and dearest friend.^' 

Josephine, her eyes filled with tears, with a 
faltering voice, replied, ^' I respond to all the 
sentiments of the emperor in consenting to the 
dissolution of a marriage which henceforth is 
an obstacle to the happiness of France, by de- 
priving it of the blessing of being one day gov- 
erned by the descendants of that great man who 
was evidently raised up by Providence to 
efface the evils of a terrible revolution, and to 
restore the altar, and the throne, and social 
order. But his marriage will in no respect 
change the sentiments of my heart. The em- 
peror will ever find in me his best friend. 1 



254 JOSEPHINE. 

know what this act, commanded by policy and 
exalted interests, has cost his heart, but we 
both glory in the sacrifices we make for the 
good of the country. I feel elevated in giving 
the greatest proof of attachment and devotion 
that was ever given upon earth." 

Such were the sentiments which were ex- 
pressed in public ; but in private Josephine sur- 
rendered herself to the unrestrained dominion 
of her anguish. No language can depict the 
intensity of her woe. For six months she wept 
so incessantly that her eyes were nearly blind- 
ed with grief. Upon the ensuing day the coun- 
cil were again assembled in the grand saloon, 
to witness the legal consummation of the di- 
vorce. The emperor entered the room dressed 
in the imposing robes of state, but pallid, care- 
worn, and wretched. Low tones of voice, har- 
monizing with the mournful scene, filled the 
room. Napoleon, apart by himself, leaned 
against a pillar, folded his arms upon his breast, 
and, in perfect silence, apparently lost in gloomy 
thought, remained motionless as a statue. A 
circular table was placed in the center of the 
apartment, and upon this there was a writing 
apparatus of gold. A vacant arm-chair stood 
before the table. Never did a multitude gaze 
upon the scaffold, the block, or the guillotine 
with more awe than the assembled lords and 
ladies in this gorgeous saloon contemplated 



THE DIVORCE AND LAST DAYS. 255 

these instruments of a more dreadful execu- 
tion. 

At length the mournful silence was inter- 
rupted by the opening of a side door and the 
entrance of Josephine. The pallor of death 
was upon her brow, and the submission of 
despair nerved her into a temporary calmness. 
She was leaning upon the arm of Hortense, 
who, not possessing the fortitude of her mother, 
was entirely unable to control her feelings. 
The sympathetic daughter, immediately upon 
entering into the room, burst into tears, and 
continued sobT3ing most convulsively during 
the whole remaining scene. The assembly re- 
spectfully arose upon the entrance of Joseph- 
ine, and all were moved to tears. With that 
grace which ever distinguished her movements, 
she advanced silently to the seat provided for 
her. Sitting down, and leaning her forehead 
upon her hand, she listened to the reading of 
the act of separation. Nothing disturbed the 
sepulchral silence of the scene but the con- 
vulsive sobbings of Hortense, blending with the 
mournful tones of the reader's voice. Eugene, 
in the mean time, pale and trembling as an 
aspen leaf, had taken a position by the side of 
his mother. Silent tears were trickling down 
the cheeks of the empress. 

As soon as the reading of the act of separa- 
tion was finished, Josephine for a moment 



256 JOSEPHINE. 

pressed her handkerchief to her weeping eyes, 
and then, rising, in clear and musical, but 
tremulous tones, pronounced the oath of ac- 
ceptance. She then sat down, took the pen, 
and affixed her signature to the deed which 
sundered the dearest hopes and the fondest 
ties which human hearts can feel. Poor 
Eugene could endure this anguish no longer. 
His brain reeled, his heart ceased to beat, and 
he fell lifeless upon the floor, Josephine and 
Hortense retired with the attendants who bore 
out the insensible form of the affectionate son 
and brother. It was a fitting termination of 
this mournful but sublime tragedy. 

But the anguish of the day was not yet 
closed. Josephine, half delirious with grief, 
had another scene still more painful to pass 
through in taking a final adieu of him who had 
been her husband. She remained in her 
chamber, in heart-rending, speechless grief, 
until the hour arrived in which Napoleon 
usually retired for the night. The emperor, 
restless and wretched, had just placed himself 
in the bed from which he had ejected his most 
faithful and devoted wife, and the attendant 
was on the point of leaving the room, when 
the private door of his chamber was slowly 
opened, and Josephine tremblingly entered. 
Her eyes were swollen with grief, her hair dis- 
heveled, and she appeared in all the dishabille 



THE DIVOECE AND LAST DAYS. 257 

of unutterable anguish. She tottered into the 
middle of the room, and approached the bed ; 
then, irresolutely stopping, she buried her face 
in her hands, and burst into a flood of tears. 
A feeling of delicacy seemed for a moment to 
have arrested her steps — a consciousness that 
she had now no right to enter the chamber of 
Napoleon ; but in another moment all the 
pent-up love of her heart burst forth, and, for- 
getting everything in the fulness of her an- 
guish, she threw herself upon the bed, clasped 
Napoleon^s neck in her arms, and exclaiming, 
'^ My husband ! my husband ! " sobbed as 
though her heart were breaking. The imperial 
spirit of Napoleon was for the moment entirely 
vanquished, and he also wept almost convul- 
sively. He assured Josephine of his love — of 
his ardent and undying love. In every way he 
tried to soothe and comfort her, and for some 
time they remained locked in each other's 
embrace. The attendant was dismissed, and 
for an hour they continued together in this 
last private interview. Josephine then, in the 
experience of an intensity of anguish which 
few hearts have ever known, parted forever 
from the husband whom she had so long, so 
fondly, and so faithfully loved. 

After the empress had retired, with a deso- 
lated heart, to her chamber of unnatural widow- 
hood, the attendant entered the apartment of 

19 — Josephine 



258 JOSEPHINE. 

Napoleon to remove the lights. He found the 
emperor so buried beneath the bed-clothes as 
to be invisible. Not a word was uttered. The 
lights were removed, and the unhappy monarch 
was left in darkness and silence to the dreadful 
companionship of his own thoughts. The next 
morning the death-like pallor of his cheek, his 
sunken eye, and the haggard expression of his 
countenance, attested that the emperor had 
passed the night in sleeplessness and suffering. 
Great as was the wrong which Napoleon 
thus inflicted upon the noble Josephine, every 
one must be sensible of a certain kind of grand- 
eur which pervades the tragedy. When we 
contemplate the brutal butcheries of Henry 
VIII., as wife after wife was compelled to place 
her head upon the block, merely to afford room 
for the indulgence of his vagrant passions ; 
when we contemplate George IV., by neglect 
and inhumanity, driving Caroline to desper- 
atii)n and to crime, and polluting the ear of 
the world with the revolting story of sin and 
shame ; when we contemplate the Bourbons, 
generation after generation, rioting in volup- 
tuousness, in utter disregard of all the laws of 
God and man, while we cannot abate one iota 
of our condemnation of the great wrong which 
Napoleon perpetrated, we feel that it becomes 
the monarchies of Europe to be sparing in 
their condemnation. 



THE DIVORCE AND LAST DAYS. 259 

The beautiful palace of Malmaison, which 
!N^apoleon had embellished with every possible 
attraction, and where the emperor and empress 
had passed many of their happiest hours, was 
assigned to Josephine for her future residence. 
Napoleon settled upon her a jointure of about 
six hundred thousand dollars a year. She was 
still to retain the title and the rank of Empress- 
Queen. 

The ensuing day, at eleven o^clock, all the 
household of the Tuilleries were assembled upon 
the grand staircase and in the vestibule, to wit- 
ness the departure of their beloved mistress 
from scenes where she had so long been the 
brightest ornament. Josephine descended, 
veiled from head to foot. Her emotions were 
too deep for utterance, and she waved an adieu 
to the affectionate and weeping friends who 
surrounded her. A close carriage, with six 
horses, was before the door. She entered it, 
sank back upon the cushions, buried her face 
in her handkerchief, and, sobbing bitterly, left 
the Tuilleries forever. 

Josephine was still surrounded with all the 
external splendors of royalty. She was beloved 
throughout France, and admired throughout 
Europe. Napoleon frequently called upon her, 
thougli, from motives of delicacy, he never saw 
her alone. He consulted her respecting all 
his plans, and most assiduously cherished her 



260 JOSEPHINE. 

friendship. It was soon manifest that the 
surest way of securing the favor of Napoleon was 
to pay marked attention to Josephine. The 
palace of Malmaison, consequently, became the 
favorite resort of all the members of the court 
of IS'apoleon. Soon after the divorce, Madame 
de Rochefoucault, formerly mistress of the robes 
to Josephine, deserting the forsaken empress, 
applied for the same post of honor in the house- 
hold of Maria Louisa. Napoleon, when he 
heard of the application, promptly and indig- 
nantly replied, '^ She shall neither retain her 
old situation nor have the new one. I am 
accused of ungrateful conduct toward Joseph- 
ine, but do not choose to have any imitators, 
more especially among those whom she has 
honored with her confidence, and overwhelmed 
with benefits." 

Josephine remained for some time at Mal- 
maison. In deeds of kindness to the poor who 
surrounded her, in reading, and in receiving, 
with the utmost elegance of hospitality, the 
members of the court of Napoleon, who were 
ever crowding her saloons, she gradually re- 
gained her equanimity of spirit, and surren- 
dered herself entirely to a quiet and pensive 
submission. Napoleon frequently called to see 
her, and, taking her arm, he would walk for 
hours, most confidentially unfolding to her all 
his plans. He seemed to desire to do every- 



THE DIVORCE AND LAST DAYS. 261 

thing in his power to alleviate the intensity of 
anguish with which he had wrung her heart. 
His own affections clung still to Josephine, and 
her lovely and noble character commanded, in- 
creasingly, his homage. The empress was very 
methodical in all her arrangements, allotting 
to each hour its appointed duty. The de- 
scription of the routine of any one day would 
answer about equally well for all. 

Ten o'clock in the morning was the reception 
hour. These morning parties, attended by the 
most distinguished members of Parisian soci- 
ety, none appearing except in uniform or in 
court costume, were always very brilliant. 
Some ten or twelve of the visitors were always 
previously invited to remain to breakfast. At 
eleven o'clock they passed from the saloon to 
the breakfast-room, the empress leading, fol- 
lowed by her court according to their rank, she 
naming those who were to sit on her right and 
left. The repast, both at breakfast and dinner, 
ordinarily consisted of one course only, every 
thing excepting the dessert being placed upon 
the table at once. The empress had five at- 
tendants, who stood behind her chair ; all the 
guests who sat down with her had one each. 

Seven officials of different ranks served at 
the table. The breakfast usually occupied 
three quarters of an hour, when the empress, 
with her ladies and guests, adjourned to the 



262 JOSEPHlKfi. 

gallery, -vi^hich contained the choicest specimens 
of painting and sculpture which the genius of 
Napoleon could select. The prospect from the 
gallery was very commanding, and, in entire 
freedom from constraint, all could find pleasant 
employment. Some examined with delight the 
varied works of art ; some, in the embrasures 
of the windows, looked out upon the lovely 
scenery, and in subdued tones of voice engaged 
in conversation ; while the chamberlain in at- 
tendance read aloud from some useful and en- 
tertaining volume to Josephine, and those who 
wished to listen with hers. At two o'clock the 
arrival of the carriages at the door was the 
signal for the visitors to depart. Three open 
carriages, when the weather permitted, were 
always provided, each drawn by four horses. 
Madame d'Arberg, the lady of honor, one of the 
ladies in waiting, and some distinguished guest, 
accompanied the empress. Two hours were 
spent in riding, visiting improvements, and con- 
versing freely with the various employees on the 
estate. The party then returned to the palace, 
and all disposed of their time as they pleased 
until six o'clock, the hour of dinner. From 
twelve to fifteen strangers were always invited 
to dine. After dinner the evening was devoted 
to relaxation, conversation, backgammon, and 
other games. The young ladies, of whom there 
were always many whom Josephine retained 



THE DIVOKCE AND LAST DAYS. 263 

around her, usually, in the course of the even- 
ing, withdrew from the drawing-room to a 
smaller saloon opening from it where, with 
unrestrained glee, they engaged in mirthful 
sports, or, animated by the music of the piano, 
mingled in the dance. Sometimes, in the buoy- 
ancy of youthful joy, they forgot the demands 
of etiquette, and somewhat incommoded, by 
their merry laughter, the more grave company 
in the grand apartment. The lady of honor 
would, on such occasions, hint at the necessity 
of repressing the mirth. Josephine would in- 
variably interpose in their behalf. '^ My dear 
Madame d'Arberg," she would say, ^' suffer 
both them and us to enjoy, while we may, all 
that innocent happiness which comes from the 
heart, and which penetrates the heart." At 
eleven o'clock, tea, ices, and sweetmeats were 
served, and then the visitors took their leave. 
Josephine sat up an hour later conversing most 
freely and confidentially with those friends who 
were especially dear to her, and about midnight 
retired. 

In the month of March, 1810, Maria Louisa 
arrived in Paris, and her marriage with Napo- 
leon was celebrated with the utmost splendor at 
St. Cloud. All France resounded with rejoic- 
ing as Napoleon led his youthful bride into the 
Tuilleries, from whence, but three months be- 
fore, Josephine had been so cruelly ejected. 



264 JOSEPHINE. 

The booming of the cannon, the merry pealing 
of the bells, the acclamations of the populace, 
fell heavily upon the heart of Josephine. She 
tried to conceal her anguish, but her pallid 
cheek and swimming eye revealed the severity 
of her sufferings. 

Napoleon continued, however, the frequency 
of his correspondence, and, notwithstanding the 
jealousy of Maria Louisa, did not at all intermit 
his visits. In a little more than a year after 
his marrirge the King of Kome was born. 
The evening in which Josephine received the 
tidings of his birth, she wrote an affectionate 
and touching letter to Napoleon, congratulating 
him upon the event. This letter reveals so 
conspicuously the magnanimity of her princi- 
ples, and yet the feminine tenderness of her 
bleeding heart, that we cannot refrain from in- 
serting it. It was dated at Navarre, at mid- 
night, the 20th of March, 1811. 

*' Sire, — Amid the numerous felicitations 
which you receive from every corner of Europe, 
from all the cities of France, and from each 
regiment of your army, can the feeble voice of a 
woman reach your ear, and will you deign to 
listen to her who so often consoled your sorrows, 
and sweetened your pains, now that she speaks 
to you only of that happiness in which all your 
wishes are fulfilled ? Having ceased to be your 
wife, dare I felicitate you on becoming a father? 




Josephine ,/acep .-26 A 

The Marriage of Napoleon and Maria Louisa. 



THE DIVORCE AND LAST DAYS. 266 

Yes, sire, without hesitation, for my soul renders 
justice to yours, in like manner as you know 
mine. I can conceive every emotion you must 
experience, as you divine all that I feel at this 
moment, and, though separated, we are united 
by that sympathy which survives all events. 

" I should have desired to have learned the 
birth of the King of Rome from yourself, and 
not from the sound of the cannon of Evreux, or 
from the courier of the prefect. I know, how- 
ever, that, in preference to all, your first atten- 
tions are due to the public authorities of the state, 
to the foreign ministers, to your family, and 
specially to the fortunate princess who has 
realized your dearest hopes. She cannot be 
more tenderly devoted to you than I am. But 
she has been enabled to contribute more toward 
your happiness by securing that of France. She 
has, then, a right to your first feelings, to all 
your cares, and I, who was but your companion 
in times of difficulty — I cannot ask more than 
for a place in your affections far removed from 
that occupied by the empress, Maria Louisa. 
Not till you have ceased to watch by her bed — not 
till you are weary of embracing your son, will 
you take the pen to converse with your best 
friend. I will wait. 

" Meanwhile, it is not possible for me to delay 
telling you that, more than any one in the 
world; do I rejoice in your joy. And you will 



266 JOSEPHINE. 

not doubt my sincerity when I hear say that, 
far from feeling an affliction at a sacrifice neces- 
sary for the repose of all, I congiatulate myself 
on having made it, since I now suffer alone. 
But I am wrong ; I do not suffer while you are 
happy, and I have but one regret, in not having 
yet done enough to prove how dear you were to 
me. I have no account of the health of the 
empress. I dare to depend upon you, sire, so 
far as to hope that I shall have circumstantial 
details of the great event which secures the 
perpetuity of the name you have so nobly illus- 
trated. Eugene and Hortense will write me, 
imparting their own satisfaction ; but it is from 
you that I desire -to know if your child be well, 
if he resembles you, if I shall one day be per- 
mitted to see him. In short, I expect from you 
unlimited confidence, and upon such I have 
some claims, in consideration, sire, of the 
boundless attachment I shall cherish for you 
while life remains." 

She had but just despatched this letter to 
Napoleon, when the folding-doors were thrown 
open with much state, and the announcement, 
*' From the emperor," ushered in a page, the 
bearer of a letter. The fragile and beautiful 
youth, whom Josephine immediately recognized, 
had so carefully secured the emperor's billet, 
from fear of losing it, that it took some time for 
Jiim, in his slight embarrassment, to extricate 



THE DIVORCE AND LAST DAYS 267 

it. Josephine was almost nervously excited till 
she received the note, and immediately retired 
with it to her own private apartment. Half 
an hour elapsed before she again made her 
appearance. Her whole countenance attested 
the intensity of the conflicting emotions with 
which her soul had been agitated. Her eyes 
were swollen with weeping, and the billet, which 
she still held in her hands, was blurred with her 
tears. She gave the page a letter to the emperor 
in reply, and then presented him, as an acknowl- 
edgment of her appreciation of the tidings he 
had brought, with a small morocco case, con- 
taining a diamond breastpin, and a thousand 
dollars in gold. 

She then, with a tremulous voice, and smil- 
ing through her tears, read the emperor's note 
to her friends. The concluding words of the 
note were, " This infant, in concert with our 
EugeuBy will constitute my happiness and that 
of France." As Josephine read these words 
with emphasis, she exclaimed. ''It is possible 
to be more amiable ! Could anything be bet- 
ter calculated to soothe whatever might be 
painful in my thoughts at this moment, did I 
not so sincerely love the emperor ? This unit- 
ing of my son with his own is indeed worthy of 
him who, when he wills, is the most delightful 
of men. This is it which has so much moved 
me." 



2H8 JOSEPHINE. 

The emperor often afterward called upon her. 
He soon, notwithstanding the jealousy of Ma- 
iLi Louisa, arranged a plan by which he pre- 
sented to Josephine, in his own arms, the idol- 
ized child. These interviews, so gratifying to 
Josephine, took place at the Royal Pavilion, 
near Paris, Napoleon and Madame Montesquieu, 
governess to the young prince, being the only 
confidants. In one of Josephine's letters to Na- 
poleon, she says, '^'^ The moment I saw you en- 
ter,, leading the young Napoleon in your hand, 
was unquestionably one of the happiest of my 
life. It effaced, for a time, the recollection 
of all that had preceded it, for never have I 
received from you a more touching mark of 
affection."" 

The apartment at Malmaison which Napo- 
leon had formerly occupied remained exactly 
as it was when he last left it. Josephine her- 
self kept the key, and dusted the room with her 
own hands. She would not permit a single 
article of furniture to be moved. The book he 
was last reading lay open upon the tcible, the 
map he was consulting, the pen with which he 
wrote, the articles of clothing which he had left 
in his accustomed disorder, all remained un- 
touched. Josephine's bed-chamber was very 
simply furnished with white muslin drapery; 
the only ornament being the golden toilet serv- 
ice which she had received from the municipal- 



THE DIVORCE AND LAST DAYS. 269 

ity of Paris, and which, with characteristic 
generosity, she refused to consider as her own 
private property until Napoleon sent it to her. 
The following letter from Josephine, written at 
this time, pleasingly illustrates her literary pol- 
ish and the refinement of her taste. It was ad- 
dressed to the superintendent, ordering some 
alterations at Malmaison. 

'' Profit by my absence, dear F., and make 
haste to dismantle the pavilion of the acacias, 
and to transfer my boudoir into that of the 
orangery. I should wish the first apartment of 
the suite, and which serves for an ante-room, to 
be painted with light green, with a border of 
lilacs. In the center of the panels you will 
place my fine engravings from Esther, and un- 
der each of these a portrait of the distinguished 
generals of the Revolution. In the center of 
the apartment there must be a large flower-stand, 
constantly filled with fresh flowers in their sea- 
son, and in each angle a bust of a French phi- 
losopher. I particularly mention that of Rous- 
seau, which place between the two windows, 
so that the vines and foliage may play around 
his head. This will be a natural crown worthy 
of the author of Emile. As to my private 
cabinet, let it be colored light blue, with a 
border of ranunculus and polyanthus. Ten 
large engravings from the Gallery of the Mu- 
see, and twenty medallions, will fill up the 



270 JOSEPHINE. 

panels. Let the casements be painted white 
and green, with double fillets, gilded. My 
piano, a green sofa, and two couches with cor- 
responding covers, a secretaire, a small bureau, 
and a large toilet-glass, are articles you will not 
forget. In the center, place a large table, 
always covered with freshly-gathered flowers, 
and upon the mantel-shelf a simple pendule, 
two alabaster vases, and double-branched giran- 
doles. Unite elegance to variety, but no pro- 
fusion. Nothing is more opposed to good taste. 
In short, I confide to you the care of rendering 
this cherished spot an agreeable retreat, where 
I may meditate, sleep it may be, but oftenest 
read, which last is sufficient to remind you 
of three hundred volumes of my small edi- 
tion. '^ 

"When Josephine first retired to Malmaison, 
where everything reminded her of the em- 
peror, her grief for many months continued un- 
abated. To divert her attention, Napoleon con- 
ferred upon her the palace of Navarre. This 
was formerly a royal residence, and was re- 
nowned for its magnificent park. During the 
Revolution it had become much dilapidated. 
The elegant chateau was situated in the midst 
of the romantic forest of Evreux. The spacious 
grounds were embellished by parks, whose ven- 
erable trees had withstood the storms of centu- 
ries, and by beautiful streams and crystal lakes 



THE DIVORCE AND LAST DAYS. 271 

The emperor gave Josephine nearly three hun- 
dred thousand dollars to repair the buildings and 
the grounds. The taste of Josephine soon con- 
verted the scene into almost a terrestrial Eden, 
and Navarre, being far more retired than Mal- 
maison, became her favorite residence. 

Soon after Josephine had taken up her resi- 
dence at Navarre, she wrote the following letter 
to Napoleon, which pleasingly illustrates the 
cordiality of friendship which still existed be- 
tween them : 

^' Sire, — I received this morning the welcome 
note which was written on the eve of your de- 
parture for St. Cloud, and hasten to reply to its 
tender and affectionate contents. These, in- 
deed, do not in themselves surprise me, but only 
as being received so early as fifteen days after 
my establishment here, so perfectly assured was 
I that your attachment would search out the 
means of consoling me under a separation nec- 
essary to the tranquillity of both. The thought 
that your care follows me into my retreat ren- 
ders it almost agreeable. 

'^ After having known all the rapture of a 
love that is shared, and all the suffering of a 
love that is shared no longer — after having ex- 
hausted all the pleasures that supreme power 
can confer, and all the happiness of beholding 
the man whom I loved enthusiastically admired, 
is there aught else, save repose, to be desired ? 

^0 — Josephine 



272 JOSEPHINE. 

What illusions can now remain for me ? All 
such vanished when it became necessary to re- 
nounce you. Thus the only ties which yet 
bind me to life are my sentiments for you, at- 
tachment for my children, the possibility of still 
being able to do some good, and, above all, the 
assurance that you are happy. Do not, then, 
condole with me on my being here, distant 
from a court, which you appear to think I 
regret. Surrounded by those who are attached 
to me, free to follow my taste for the arts, I 
find myself better at Navarre than anywhere 
else, for I enjoy more completely the society of 
the former, and form a thousand projects which 
may prove useful to the latter, and which will 
embellish the scenes I owe to your bounty. 
There is much to be done here, for all around 
are discovered the traces of destruction. These 
I would efface, that there may exist no memo- 
rial of those horrible inflictions which your 
genius has taught the nation almost to forget. 
In repairing whatever these ruffians of revolu- 
tion labored to annihilate, I shall diffuse com- 
fort around me, and the benedictions of the 
poor will afford me infinitely more pleasure 
than the feigned adulation of courtiers. 

" I have already told you what I think of the 
functionaries in this department, but have not 
spoken sufficiently of the respectable bishop, 
M. Boulier. Every day I learn some new, trait 



THE DIVORCE AND LAST DAYS. 273 

which causes me still more highly to esteem the 
man who unites the most enlightened benevo- 
lence with the most amiable disposition. He 
shall be intrusted with distributing my alms- 
deeds in Evreux, and, as he visits the indigent 
himself, I shall be assured that my charities are 
properly bestowed. 

'' I cannot sufficiently thank you, sire, for 
the liberty you have permitted me of choosing 
the members of my household, all of whom con- 
tribute to the pleasure of a delightful society. 
One circumstance alone gives m« pain, namely, 
the etiquette of costume, which becomes a little 
tiresome in the country. You fear that there 
may be something wanting to the rank I have 
preserved should a slight infraction be allowed 
to the toilet of these gentlemen ; but I believe 
that you are wrong in thinking they would for 
one moment forget the respect due to the woman 
who was once your companion. Their respect 
for yourself, joined to the sincere attachment 
they bear to me, which I cannot doubt, secures 
me from the danger of ever being obliged to re- 
call what it is your wish that they should re- 
member. My most honorable title is derived, 
not from having oeen crowned, but assuredly 
from having been chosen by you. None other 
is of value. That alone suffices for my immor- 
tality. 

"My circle is at this time somewhat more 



274 JOSEPHINE. 

numerous than usual, tliere being several visit- 
ors, besides many of the inhabitants of Evreux 
and the environs, whom I see of course. I am 
pleased with their manners, with their admira- 
tion of you, a particular in which you know 
that I am not easily satisfied. In short, I find 
myself perfectly at home in the midst of my 
forest, and entreat you, sire, no longer to fancy 
to yourself that there is no living at a distance 
from court. Besides you, there is nothing there 
which I regret, since I shall have my children 
with me soon, and already enjoy the society of 
the small number of friends who remained faith- 
ful to me. Do not forget your friend. Tell 
her sometimes that you preserve for her an at- 
tachment which constitutes the felicity of her 
life. Often repeat to her that you are happy, 
and be assured that for her the future will thus 
be peaceful, as the past has been stormy, and 
often sad." 

Just before Napoleon set out on his fatal cam- 
paign to Russia, he called to see Josephine. 
Seated upon a circular bench in the garden, be- 
fore the windows of the saloon, where they could 
both be seen but not overheard, they continued 
for two hours engaged most earnestly in con- 
versation. Josephine was apparently endeavor- 
ing to dissuade him from the perilous enterprise. 
His perfect confidence, however, seemed to as- 
sure her that her apprehensions were ground- 



THE DIVORCE AND LAST DAYS. 275 

less. At last he arose and kissed her hand. She 
accompanied him .to his carriage, and bade him 
adieu. This was their last interview but one. 
Soon Napoleon returned, a fugitive from Mos- 
cow. Days of disaster were darkening around 
his path. All Europe had risen in arms against 
him, and were on the march toward his capital. 
In the midst of the terror of those dreadful days, 
he sought a hurried interview with his most 
faithful friend. It was their last meeting. As 
he was taking his leave of Josephine, at the close 
of this short and melancholy visit, he gazed upon 
her a moment in silence, tenderly and sadly, and 
then said, '' Josephine ! I have been as fortunate 
as was ever man on the face of this earth. But, 
in this hour, when a storm is gathering over 
my head, I have not, in this wide world, any one 
but you upon whom I can repose." 

In the fearful conflict which ensued — the 
most terrible which history has recorded — Napo- 
leon's thoughts ever reverted to the wife of his 
youth. He kept up an almost daily correspond- 
ence with her, informing her of the passing 
of events. His letters, written in the midst of 
all the confusion of the camp, were more affec- 
tionate and confiding than ever. Adversity had 
softened his heart. In these dark days, when, 
with most Herculean power, he was struggling 
against fearful odds, and his throne was crum- 
bling beneath his feet, it was observed that a 



276 JOSEPHINE. 

letter from Josephine was rather torn than 
broken open, so great was the eagerness of Napo- 
leon receive a line from her. Wherever he 
was, however great the emergency in which he 
was placed, the moment a courier brought to 
him a letter from Josephine, all other business 
was laid aside until it had been read. 

The allied armies were every day approach- 
ing nearer and nearer to Paris, and Josephine 
was overwhelmed with grief in contemplating 
the disasters which were falling upon Napoleon. 
At Malmaison, Josephine and the ladies of her 
court were employed in forming bandages and 
scraping lint for the innumerable wounded who 
filled the hospitals. The conflicting armies ap- 
proached so near to Malmaison that it became 
dangerous for Josephine to remain there, and, 
in great apprehension, she one morning, at eight 
o'clock, took her carriage for Navarre. Two 
or three times on the road she was alarmed by 
the cry, '' Cossacks ! Cossacks ! " When she 
had proceeded about thirty miles, the pole of 
her carriage broke, and at the same time a troop 
of horsemen appeared in the distance, riding 
down upon her. They were French hussars ; 
but Josephine thought that they were either 
Cossacks or Prussians, and, though the rain was 
falling in torrents, in her terror she leaped from 
the carriage, and began to fly across the fields. 
She had proceeded some distance before her at^ 



THE DIVORCE AND LAST DAYS. ^77 

tendants discovered the mistake. The carriage 
being repaired, she proceeded the rest of her 
way unmolested. The empress hardly uttered 
a word during this melancholy journey, but 
upon entering the palace she threw herself upon 
a couch, exclaming, '^ Surely, surely Bonaparte 
is ignorant of what is passing within sight of 
the gates of Paris, or, if he knows, how cruel 
the thoughts which must now agitate his breast ! 
Oh ! if he had listened to me." 

Josephine remained for some days at Navarre, 
in a state of most painful anguish respecting 
the fate of the emperor. She allowed herself 
no relaxation, excepting a solitary ride each 
morning in the park, and another short ride 
after dinner with one of her ladies. The Em- 
peror Alexander had immediately sent a guard 
of honor to protect Josephine from all intrusion. 
Hundreds of thousands of soldiers were swarm- 
ing in all directions, and every dwelling was 
filled with terror and distraction. One melan- 
choly incident we will record, illustrative of 
hundreds which might be narrated. Lord 
Londonderry, in the midst of a bloody skirmish, 
saw a young and beautiful French lady, the 
wife of a colonel, in a caleche, seized by three 
brutal Russian soldiers, who were carrying off, 
into the fields, their frantic and shrieking 
victim. The gallant Englishman, sword in 
hand, rushed forward for her deliverance froin 



278 JOSEPHINE. 

his barbarian allies. He succeeded in rescuing 
her, and, in the confusion of the battle still 
raging, ordered a dragoon to take her to his 
own quarters till she could be provided with 
suitable protection. The dragoon took the lady, 
half dead with terror, upon his horse behind 
him and was galloping with her to a place of 
safety, when another ruffian band of Cossacks 
surrounded him, pierced his body with their 
sabers, and seized again the unhappy victim. 
She was never heard of more. The Emperor 
Alexander was greatly distressed at her fate, 
and made the utmost, though unavailing efforts 
to discover what had become of her. The rev- 
elations of the last day alone can divulge the 
horrors of this awful tragedy. 

The grief of Josephine in these days of anxi- 
ety was intense in the extreme. She passed 
her whole time in talking about Napoleon, or 
in reading the letters she had lately received 
from him. He wrote frequently, as he escaped 
from place to place, but many of his letters 
were intercepted by the bands of soldiers trav- 
ersing every road. The last she had received 
from him was dated at Brienne. It gave an 
account of a desperate engagement, in which 
the little band of Napoleon had been over- 
whelmed by numbers, and was concluded with 
the following affecting words : '' On beholding 
those scenes where I had passed my boyhood. 



THE DIVORCE AND LAST DAYS. 279 

and comparing my peaceful condition then 
with the agitation and terrors which I now ex- 
perience, I several times said, in my own mind, 
I have sought to meet death in many conflicts ; 
I can no longer fear it. To me death would 
now be a blessing. But I would once more see 
Josephine.^' 

Notwithstanding the desperate state of affairs, 
Josephine still cherished the hope that his com- 
manding genius would yet enable him to re- 
trieve his fortunes. All these hopes were, how- 
ever, dispelled on the receipt of the following 
letter : 

"Fontainebleau, April 16, 1814. 

" Dear Josephine, — I wrote to you on the 
eighth of this month, but perhaps you have not 
received my letter. Hostilities still continued, 
and possibly it may have been intercepted. At 
present the communications must be re-estab- 
lished. I have formed my resolution. I have 
no doubt that this billet will reach you. I will 
not repeat what I said to you. Then I lament- 
ed my situation, now I congratulate myself 
upon it. My head and spirit are freed from an 
enormous weight. My fall is great, but it may, 
as men say, prove useful. In my retreat I shall 
substitute the pen for the sword. The history 
of my reign will be curious. The world has 
yet seen me only in profile, I shall show my- 



280 JOSEPHINE. 

self in full. How many things have I to dis- 
close ! how many are the men of whom a false 
estimate is entertained ! I have heaped bene- 
fits upon millions of wretches ! "What have they 
done in the end for me ? They have all be- 
trayed me — yes, all. I except from this number 
the good Eugene, so worthy of you and of me. 
Adieu ! my dear Josephine. Be resigned as I 
am, and never forget him who never forgot, and 
never will forget you. Farewell, Josephine. 

" Napoleoi^. 
"P.S. — I expect to hear from you at Elba. 
I am not very well/' 

Upon reading these tidings of so terrible an 
overthrow, Josephine was overwhelmed with 
grief, and for a time wept bitterly. Soon, how- 
ever, recovering her self-possession, she ex- 
claimed, '' I must not remain here. My pres- 
ence is necessary to the emperor. That duty 
is, indeed, more Maria Louisa^s than mine, but 
the emperor is alone — forsaken. Well, I at 
least will not abandon him. I might be dis- 
pensed with while he was happy ; now, I am 
sure that he expects me." After a pause of a 
few moments, in which she seemed absorbed in 
her own thoughts, she addressed her chamber- 
lain, saying, " I may, however, interfere with 
his arrangements. You will remain here with 
me till intelligence be received from the allied 



a?HE DIVORCE AKD LAST DAYS. 281 

sovereigns ; they will respect her who was the 
wife of Napoleon.'^ 

She was indeed remembered by them. The 
magnanimity of her conduct under the deep 
wrongs of the divorce had filled Europe with 
admiration. The allied sovereigns sent her as- 
surances of their most friendly regards. They 
entreated her to return to Malmaison, and pro- 
vided her with an ample guard for her protec- 
tion. Her court was ever crowded with the 
most illustrious monarchs and nobles, who 
sought a presentation to do homage to her vir- 
tues. The Emperor Alexander was one of the 
first to visit her. He said to her on that occa- 
sion, '^ Madam, I burned with the desire of be- 
holding you. Since I entered France, 1 have 
never heard your name pronounced but with 
benedictions. In the cottage and in the palace 
I have collected accounts of your angelic good- 
ness, and I do myself a pleasure in thus pre- 
senting to your majesty the universal homage 
of which I am the bearer." 

Maria Louisa, thinking only of self, declined 
accompanying Napoleon to his humble retreat. 
Josephine, not knowing her decision, wrote to 
the emperor : '^ Now only can I calculate the 
whole extent of the misfortune of having beheld 
my union with you dissolved by law. Now do 
I indeed lament being no more than jour friend, 
who can but mourn over a misfortune great as 



282 JOSEPHINE. 

it is unexpected. Ah ! sire, why can I not fly 
to you ? Why can I not give you the assur- 
ance that exile has no terrors save for vulgar 
minds, and that, far from diminishing a sincere 
attachment, misfortune imparts to it a new 
force ? I have been upon the point of quitting 
France to follow your footsteps, and to conse- 
crate to you the remainder of an existence 
which you so long embellished. A single motive 
restrained me, and that you may divine. If I 
learn that I am the only one who will fulfil her 
duty, nothing shall detain me, and I will go to 
the only place where, henceforth, there can be 
happiness for me, since I shall be able to con- 
sole you when you are there isolated and un- 
fortunate ! Say but the word, and I depart. 
Adieu, sire ; whatever I would add would still 
be too little. It is no longer by words that my 
sentiments for you are to be proved, and for 
actions your consent is necessary. ^^ 

A few days after this letter was written, the 
Emperor Alexander, with a number of illustri- 
ous guests, dined with Josephine at Malmaison. 
In the evening twilight, the party went out 
upon the beautiful lawn in front of the house 
for recreation. Josephine, whose health had 
become exceedingly precarious through care 
and sorrow, being regardless of herself in de- 
votion to her friends, took a violent cold. The 
next day she was worse. Without any very 



THE DIVORCE AND LAST DAYS. 283 

definite form of disease, she day after day grew 
more faint and feeble, until it was evident that 
her final change was near at hand. Eugene 
and Hortense, her most affectionate children, 
were with her by day and by night. They 
communicated to her the judgment of her phy- 
sician that death was near. She heard the 
tidings with perfect composure, and called for 
a clergyman to administer to her the last rites 
of religion. 

Just after this solemnity the Emperor Alex- 
ander entered the room. Eugene and Hortense, 
bathed in tears, were kneeling at their mother's 
side. Josephine beckoned to the emperor to 
approach her, and said to him and her children, 
*' I have always desired the happiness of France. 
I did all in my power to contribute to it ; and 
I can say with truth, to all of you now present, 
at my last moments, that the first wife of Na- 
poleon never caused a single tear to flow." 

She called for the portrait of the emperor ; 
she gazed upon it long and tenderly ; and then, 
.fervently pressing it in her clasped hands to 
her bosom, faintly articulated the following 
prayer : 

" God ! watch over Napoleon while he re- 
mains in the desert of this world. Alas ! though 
he hath committed great faults, hath he not 
expiated them by great sufferings ? Just God, 
thou hast looked into his heart, and hast seen 



284 JOSEPHINE. 

by how ardent a desire for useful and durable 
improvements he was animated. Deign to ap- 
prove my last petition. And may this image 
of my husband bear me witness that my latest 
wish and my latest prayer were for him and 
my children.'' 

It was the 29th of May, 1814. A tranquil 
summer's day was fading away into a cloudless, 
serene, and beautiful evening. The rays of the 
setting sun, struggling through the foliage of 
the open window, shone cheerfully upon the bed 
where the empress was dying. The vesper songs 
of the birds which filled the groves of Malmaison 
floated sweetly upon the ear, and the gentle 
spirit of Josephine, lulled to repose by these 
sweet anthems, sank into its last sleep. Gazing 
upon the portrait of the emperor, she ex- 
claimed, '' L'isle d'Elbe — Napoleon ! " and 
died. 

Alexander, as he gazed upon her lifeless re- 
mains, burst into tears, and uttered the follow- 
ing affecting yet just tribute of respect to her 
memory : " She is no more ; that woman whom 
France named the beneficent., that angel of 
goodness, is no more. Those who have known 
Josephine can never torget her. She dies re- 
gretted by her offspring, her friends, and her 
cotemporaries." 

For four days her body remained shrouded 
in state for its burial Paring this time more 



THE DIVORCE AND LAST DAYS. 285 

than twenty thousand of the people of France 
visited her beloved remains. On the 2d of June, 
at midday, the funeral procession moved from 
Malmaison to Ruel, where the body was depos- 
ited in a tomb of the village church. The fu- 
neral services were conducted with the greatest 
magnificence, as the sovereigns of the allied 
armies united with the French in doing honor 
to her memory. When all had left the church 
but Eugene and Hortense, they knelt beside 
their mother^s grave, and for a long time min- 
gled their prayers and their tears. A beautiful 
monument of white marble, representing the 
empress kneeling in her coronation robes, is 
erected over her burial-place, with this simple 
but affecting inscription : 

EUGENE AND HORTENSE 
TO 

JOSEPHINE. 



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helped so long to keep the weary world young. 



ALTEMUS' YOUNG PEOPLE'S LIBRARY. 



ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES. By Hans Christian An- 
dersen. With 77 illustrations. 

The spirit of high moral teaching, and the delicacy of sentiment, 
feeling and expression that pervade these tales make these won- 
derful creations not only attractive to the young, but equally accept- 
able to those of mature years, who are able to understand their 
real significance and appreciate the depth of their meaning. 

GRIMM'S FAIRY TALES. With 50 illustrations. 

These tales of the Brothers Grimm have carried their names into 
every household of the civilized world. 

The Tales are a wonderful collection, as interesting, from a lit- 
erary point of view, as they are delightful as stories. 

GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR; A History for Youth. By 
Nathaniel Hawthorne. With 60 illustrations. 

The story of America from the landing of the Puritans to the 
achio%vledgnient ivithotit 7'eserve of the Independence of the 
United States, told with all the elegance, simplicity, grace, clear- 
ness and force for which Hawthorne is conspicuously noted. 

FLOWER FABLES. By Louisa May Alcott. With colored 
and plain illustrations. 

A series of very interesting fairy tales by the most charming of 
American story-tellers. 

AUNT MARTHA'S CORNER CUPBOARD. By Mary 
and Elizabeth Kirby. With 60 illustrations. 

Stories about Tea, Coffee, Sugar, Rice and Chinaware, and 
other accessories of the well-kept Cupboard. A book full of in- 
■ terest for all the girls and many of the boys. 

WATER-BABIES; A Fairy Tale for a Land-Baby. By 
Charles Kingsley. With 94 illustrations. 

" Come read me my riddle, each good little man ; 
If you cannot read it, no grown-up folk can." 

BATTLES OF THE WAR FOR INDEPENDENCE. By 
Prescott Holmes. With 70 illustrations. 

A graphic and full history of the Rebellion of the American. Col- 
onies from the yoke and oppression of England,, with the causes 



ALTEMUS' YOUNG PEOPLE'S LIBRARY. 



that led thereto, and including an account of the second war with 
Great Britain, and the War with Mexico. 

BATTLES OF THE WAR FOR THE UNION. By 
Prescott Holmes. With 80 illustrations. 

A correct and impartial account of the greatest civil war in the 
annals of history. Both of these histories of American wars fire 
a necessary part of the education of all intelligent American boys 
and girls. 

YOUNG PEOPLE'S HISTORY OF THE WAR WITH 
SPAIN. By Prescott Holmes. With 89 illustrationSo 

This history of our war with Spain, in 1898, presents in a plain, 
easy style the splendid achievements of our army and navy, and 
the prominent figures that came into the public view during that 
period. Its glowing descriptions, wealth of anecdote, accuracy < f 
statement and profusion of illustration make it a most desirable 
gift book for young readers. 

HEROES OF THE UNITED STATES NAVY. By 
Hart well James. With 65 illustrations. 

The story of our navy is one of the most brilliant pages in the 
world's history. The sketches and exploits contained in this vol- 
ume cover our entire naval history from the days of the honcbt, 
rough sailors of Revolutionary times, with their cutlasses and 
boarding pikes, to the brief war of 1 898, when our superbly ap- 
pointed warships destroyed Spain's. proud cruisers by the merci- 
less accuracy of their fire. 

MILITARY HEROES OF THE UNITED STATES. 
By Hartwell James. With 97 illustrations. 

In this volume the brave lives and heroic deeds of our military 
heroes, from Paul Revere to Lawton, are told in the most captiva- 
ting manner. The material for the work has been gathered from 
the North and the Souih alike. The volume presents all the im- 
portant facts in a manner enabling the young people of our united 
and prosperous land to easily become familiar with the command- 
ing figures that have arisen in our military history. 

UNCLE TOM'S CABIN; or Life Among the Lowly. By 
• Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe. With 90 illustrations. 



ALTEMUS' YOUNG PEOPLE'S LIBRARY. 7 

The unfailing interest in the famous old story suggested the need 
of an edition specially prepared for young readers, and elaborately 
illustrated. This edition completely fills that want. 

SEA KINGS AND NAVAL HEROES. By Hartwell 
James. With 50 illustrations. 

The most famous sea battles of the world with sketches of the 
lives, enterprises and achievements of men who have become fam- 
ous in naval history. They are stories of brave lives in times of 
trial and danger, charmingly told for young people. 

POOR BOYS' CHANCES. By John Habberton. With 
50 illustrations. 

There is a fascination about the writings of the author of 
" Helen's Babies," from which none can escape. In this charm- 
ing volume, Mr. Habberton tells the boys of America how they 
can attain the highest positions in the land, without the struggles 
and privations endured by poor boys who rose to eminence and 
fame in former times. 

ROMULUS, the Founder of Rome. By Jacob Abbott. 
With 49 illustrations. 

In a plain and connected narrative, the author tells the stories 
of the founder of Rome and his great ancestor, .Eneas. These 
are of necessity somewhat legendary in character but are pre- 
sented precisely as they have come down to us from ancient times. 
They are prefaced by an account of the life and inventions of Cad- 
mus, the '* P^ather of the Alphal)et," as he is often called. 

CYRUS THE GREAT, the Founder of the Persian Empire. 
By Jacob Abbott. With 40 illustrations. 

For nineteen hundred years, the story of the founder of the an- 
cient Persian empire has been read by every generation of man- 
kind. The story of tjie life and actions of Cyrus, as told by the 
author, presents vivid pictures of the magnificence of a monarchy 
that rose about five hundred years before the Christian era, and 
rolled on in undisturbed magnitude and glory for many centuries. 

ADVENTURES IN TOYLAND. By Edith King Hull. 
With 70 illustrations by Alice B. Woodward. 

The sayings and doings of the dwellers in toyland, related by 
one of them to a dear little girl. It is a delightful book for chil- 
dren, and admirably illustrated. 



ALTEMUS' YOUNG PEOPLE'S LIBRARY. 



DARIUS THE GREAT, King of the Medes and Persians. 
By Jacob Abbott. With 34 illustrations. 

No great exploits marked the career of this monarch, who was 
at one time the absolute sovereign of nearly one-half of the world. 
He reached his high position by a stratagem, and left behind him 
no strong impressions of personal character, yet, the history of his 
Hfe and reign should be read along with those of Cyrus, Caesar, 
Hannibal and Alexander. 

XERXES THE GREAT, King of Persia. By Jacob Ab- 
bott. With 39 illustrations. 

For ages the name of Xerxes has been associated in the minds 
of men with the idea of the highest attainable human magnificence 
and grandeur. He was the sovereign of the ancient Persian em- 
pire at the height of its prosperity and power. The invasion of 
Greece by the Persian hordes, the batde of Thermopylae, the burn- 
ing of Athens, and the defeat of the Persian galleys at Salamis are 
chapters of thrilling interest. 

THE ADVENTURES OF A BROWNIE. By Miss 
Mulock, author of John Halifax, Gentleman, etc. With 
18 illustrations. 

One of the best of Miss Murlock's charming stories for children. 
All the situations are amusing and are sure to please youthful 
readers. 
ALEXANDER THE GREAT, King of Macedon. By 
Jacob Abbott. With 51 illustrations. 

Born heir to the throne of Macedon, a country on the confines 
of Europe and Asia, Alexander crowded into a brief career of 
twelve years a brilliant series of exploits. The readers of to-day 
will find pleasure and profit in the history of Alexander the Great, 
a potentate before whom ambassadors and princes from nearly all 
the nations of the earth bowed in humility. 

PYRRHUS, King of Epirus. By Jacob Abbott. With 45 
illustrations. 

The story of Pyrrhus is one of the ancient narratives which has 
been told and retold for many centuries in the literature, eloquence 
and poetry of all civilized nations. While possessed of extraordi- 
nary ability as a military leader, Pyrrhus actually accomplished 
nothing, but did mischief on a gigantic scale. He was naturally 



ALTEMUS* YOUNG PEOPLE'S LIBRARY. 



of a noble and generous spirit, but only succeded in perpetrating 
crimes against the peace and welfare of mankind. 

HANNIBAL, the Carthaginian. By Jacob Abbott. With 
37 iUustrations. 

Hannibal's distinction as a warrior was gained during the des- 
perate contests between Rome and Carthage, known as the Punic 
wars. Entering the scene when his country was engaged in peace- 
ful traffic with the various countries of the known world, he turned 
Its energies into military aggression, conquest and war, becoming 
himself one of the greatest military heroes the world has ever 
known. 

MIXED PICKLES. By Mrs. E. M. Field. With 31 illus- 
trations by T. Pym. 

A remarkably entertaining story for young people. The reader 
is introduced to a charming little girl whose mishaps while trying 
to do good are very appropriately termed " Mixed Pickles." 

JULIUS CyESAR, the Roman Conqueror. By Jacob Ab- 
bott. With 44 illustrations. 

The life and actions of Julius Coesar embrace a period in Roman 
history beginning with the civil wars of Marius and Sylla and end- 
ing with the tragic death of Caesar Imperator. The work is an 
accurate historical account of the life and limes of one of the great 
raihtary figures in history, in fact, it is history itself, and as such is 
especially commended to the readers of the present generation. 

ALFRED THE GREAT, of England. By Jacob Abbott. 
With 40 illustrations. 

In a certain sense, Alfred appears in history as the founder of 
the British monarchy : his predecessors having governed more like 
savage chieftains than English kings. The work has a special 
value for young readers, for the character of Alfred was that of an 
honest, conscientious and far-seeing statesman. The romantic 
story of Godwin furnishes the concluding chapter of the volume. 

WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR, of England. By Jacob 
Abbott. With 43 illustrations. 

The life and times of William of Normandy have always been a 
fruitful theme for the historian. War and pillage and conquest 
were at least a part of the everyday business of men in both Eng- 



lO ALTEMUS* YOUNG PEOPLE* S LIBRARY. 

land and France : and the story of William as told by the author 
of this volume makes some of the most fascinating pages in his- 
tory. It is especially delightful to young readers. 

HERNANDO CORTEZ, the Conqueror of Mexico. By 
Jacob Abbott. With 30 illustrations. 

In this volume the author gives vivid pictures of the wild and 
adventurous career of Cortez and his companions in the conquest 
of Mexico. Many good motives were united with those of ques- 
tionable character, in the prosecution of his enterprise, but in 
those days it was a matter of national ambition to enlarge the 
boundaries of nations and to extend their commerce at any cost. 
The career of Cortez is one of absorbing interest. 

THE LITTLE LAME PRINCE. By Miss Mulock. With 
24 illustrations. 

The author styles it "A Parable for Old and Young." It is in her 
happiest vein and delightfully interesting, especially to youthful 
readers. 

MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS. By Jacob Abbott. With 
45 illustrations. 

The story of Mary Stuart holds a prominent place in the present 
series of historical narrations. It has had many tellings, for the 
melancholy story of the unfortunate queen has always held a high 
place in the estimation of successive generations of readers. Her 
story is full of romance and pathos, and the reader is carried along 
by conflicting emotions of wonder and sympathy. 

QUEEN ELIZABETH, of' England. By Jacob Abbott. 
With 49 illustrations. 

In strong contrast to the story of Mary, Queen of Scots, is that 
of Elizabeth, Queen of England. They were cousins, yet im- 
placable foes. Elizabeth's reign was in many ways a glorious one, 
and her successes gained her the applause of the world. The 
stirring tales of Drake, Hawkins and other famous mariners of 
her lime have been incorporated into the story of Elizabeth's life 
and reign. 

KING CHARLES THE FIRST, of England. By Jacob 
Abbott. With 41 illustrations. 

The well-known figures in the stormy reign of Charles I. are 
brought forward in this narrative of his life and times. It is his- 
tory told in the most fascinating manner, and embraces the earlj 



ALTEMUS' YOUNG PEOPLE'S LIBRARY. u 



life of Charles ; the court of James I.; struggles between Charles 
and the Parliament; the Civil war; the trial and execution of the 
king. The narrative is impartial and holds the attention of the 
reader. 

KING CHARLES THE SECOND, of England. By Jacob 
Abbott. With sS illustrations. 

^ Beginning with his infancy, the life of the " Merry Monarch " 
IS related m the author's inimitable style. His reign was signal- 
ized by many disastrous events, besides those that related to his 
personal troubles and embarrassments. There were unfortunate 
wars ; naval defeats ; dangerous and disgraceful plots and con- 
spiracies. Trobule sat very lightly on the shoulders of Charles II , 
however, and the cares of state were easily forgotten in the society 
of his court and dogs. 

THE SLEEPY KING. By Aubrey Hopwood and Seymour 
Hicks. With 77 illustrations by Maud Trelawney. 

A charmingly-told Fairy Tale, full of delight and entertain- 
ment. ^ The illustrations are original and striking, addin? greatlv 
to the interest of the text. t> *> j 

MARIA ANTOINETTE, Queen of France. By John S. H. 
Abbott. With 42 illustrations. 

The tragedy of Maria Antoinette is one of the most mournful in 
the history of the world. " Her beauty dazzled the whole king- 
dom," says Lamartine. Her lofty and unbending spirit under 
unspeakable indignities and atrocities, enlists and holds the sympa- 
thies of the readers of to-day, as it has dont: in the past. 

MADAME ROLAND, A Heroine of the French Revolution. 
By Jacob Abbott. With 42 illustrations. 

The French Revolution developed few, if any characters more 
worthy of notice than that of Madame Roland. The absence of 
playmates, in her youth, inspired her with an insatiate thirst for 
knowledge, and books became her constant companions in every 
unoccupied hour. She fell a martyr to the tyrants of the French 
Revolution, but left behind her a career fall of instruction that 
never fails to impress itself upon the reader. 

JOSEPHINE, Empress of France. By Jacob Abbott. With 
40 illustrations. 



12 ALTEMUS* YOUNG PEOPLE'S LIBRARY. 

Maria Antoinette beheld the dawn of the French Revolution ; 
Madame Roland perished under the lurid glare of its high noon ; 
Josephine saw it fade into darkness. She has been called the 
" Star of Napoleon ; " and it is certain that she added luster to 
his brilliance, and that her persuasive influence was often exerted 
to win a friend or disarm an adversary. The lives of the Empress 
Josephine, of Maria Antoinette, and of Madame Roland are 
especially commended to young lady readers. 

TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. By Charles and Mary 
Lamb. With 80 illustrations. 

The text is somewhat abridged and edited for young people, but 
a clear and definite outline of each play is presented. Such episodes 
• or incidental sketches of character as are not absolutely necessary 
to the development of the tales are omitted, while the many moral 
lessons that lie in Shakespeare's plays and make them valuable in 
the training of the young are retained. The book is winning, help- 
ful and an effectual guide to the '* inner shrine" of the great 
dramatist. 

MAKERS OF AMERICA. By Hartwell James. With 75 
illustrations. 

This volume contains attractive and suggestive sketches of the 
lives and deeds of men who illustrated some special phase in the 
political, religious or social lif^ of our country, from its settlement 
to the close of the eighteenth century. It affords an opportunity 
for voung readers to become easily familiar with these characters 
and their historical relations to the building of our Republic. An 
account of the discovery of America prefaces the work. 

A WONDER BOOK FOR BOYS AND GIRLS. By 
Nathaniel Hawthorne. With 50 illustrations. 

In this volume the genius of Hawthorne has shaped anew 
wonder tales that have been hallowed by an antiquity of two or 
three thousand years. Seeming " never to have been made " they 
are Legitimate subjects for every age to clothe with its own fancy 
as to manners and sentiment, and its own views of morality. The 
volume has a charm fo- old and young alike, for the author has 
not thought it necessary to " write downward " in order to meet 
the comprehension of children. 



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